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THE VOYAGE WAS BEGUN 


The Rambler Club’s 
House-boat 



BY W/ CRISPIN SHEPPARD 

it 


AUTHOR OF 


“THE RAMBLER 
“THE RAMBLER 
“THE RAMBLER 
“THE RAMBLER 
“THE RAMBLER 
“THE RAMBLER 
“THE RAMBLER 


CLUB AFLOAT” 

CLUB’S WINTER CAMP” 

CLUB IN THE MOUNTAINS” 

CLUB ON CIRCLE T RANCH” 

CLUB AMONG THE LUMBERJACKS” 
CLUB’S GOLD MINE” 

CLUB’S AEROPLANE” 


Illustrated by the Author 




THK PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA 
MCMXII 



COPYRIGHT 
1912 BY 
THE PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 


« « 

• * ' 


The Rambler Club’s House-boat 


Introduction 


The earlier adventures of Bob Somers and his 
friends have been described in “ The Rambler 
Club Afloat,” “ The Rambler Club’s Winter 
Camp,” “ The Rambler Club in the Moun- 
tains,” “The Rambler Club on Circle T 
Ranch,” “ The Rambler Club Among the Lum- 
berjacks,” “The Rambler Club’s Gold Mine,” 
and “The Rambler Club’s Aeroplane.” 

“ The Rambler Club’s House-boat ” deals 
with the adventures on the Hudson of the 
Rambler boys and Jack Lyons and his friends. 

They have an exciting and enjoyable time 
on the historic river, and begin to appreciate 
its varied beauty and charm. 

When the “ Gray Gull,” Jack Lyons, 
Master, is close to Yonkers Bob Somers is the 
means of aiding a young man in distress. 
Formerly he had been the tutor of a boy 
residing at Nyack ; but, for a reason which re- 
flects no discredit upon him, he lost his posi- 
tion. 


3 


4 


Introduction 


A friendship springs up all around. The 
lads on the house-boat meet the Nyack boy, 
who is enthusiastic over the idea of such a 
trip, and decides to join. 

Misunderstandings arise, and for a while the 
trip of the “ Gray Gull ” promises to be the 
means of causing much trouble. But events 
so shape themselves that in the end right pre- 
vails, and his chance meeting with the boys 
turns out to be a fortunate thing for the former 
tutor. 


W. Crispin Sheppard. 


Contents 


I. 

The “ Gray Gull ” . 



9 

II. 

The Engine 



3 ° 

III. 

“ All Aboard ! ” 



46 

IV. 

A Voice in the Night 



70 

V. 

An Exploring Trip . 



9 1 

VI. 

Joe in Trouble 



105 

VII. 

The Battle for the Boat 



116 

VIII. 

A Collision 



130 

IX. 

The Millionaire Boy 



i^o 

X. 

In the Automobile . 



i 55 

XI. 

George Goes Along . 



166 

XII. 

Pierre Catches Up . 



181 

XIII. 

Colonel Ellison Takes a Hand 


188 

XIV. 

“ That Chaffer Fellow” 



196 

XV. 

The Colonel Speaks His Mind 



212 

XVI. 

The War-Call 



228 

XVII. 

In the Red Car 



240 

XXIII. 

The Colonel is Angry 



257 

XIX. 

George is Wanted . 



266 

XX. 

Two Nights 



2 75 

XXI. 

A Midnight Tow 



286 

XXII. 

The Push-Ball Contest . 



295 

XXIII. 

Good News for Redfern . 



308 

XXIV. 

The End of the Cruise . 


. 

318 


5 



Illustrations 


The Voyage Was Begun 
u I Wish I Were Going With You ” 
“ His Eyes Snapped Fiercely ” 
w Hang On Tight, Sir ” 
u See Who’s Coming ” 


The Rambler Club’s House-boat. 


PAGE 

. Frontispiece 1/ 
82^ 

• 163^ 

. 220 ^ 

. 302 ^ 


7 













t 



The Rambler Club’s House- 
boat 


CHAPTER I 

THE “ GRAY GULL ” 

“ Well, Bob Somers, I certainly am glad 
you came on to New York with your father. 
Dad has been talking so much about you 
Rambler chaps lately that I’ve been simply 
wild to meet the crowd.” 

“ And three of us are here for your inspec- 
tion, Jack Lyons/’ laughed Bob. “ Dave 
Brandon ” — his hand fell on the shoulder of 
a stout, good-humored-looking boy standing 
by his side — “ is our poet, artist and historian ; 
and this is Tommy, or, perhaps, I’d better say, 
Mr. Thomas Clifton.” 

A very tall, thin boy flushed as Jack Lyons 
eyed him quizzically and then heartily shook 
his extended hand. 


9 


10 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ If titles go by the length of people I think 
you’d better add Esquire, too,” gurgled Jack. 

“ For a long time Tommy was the smallest 
member of our crowd,” explained Dave Bran- 
don ; “ then, suddenly ” 

“ Nothing could keep him down,” supple- 
mented Bob, with a smile. 

“ And I don’t wonder, after the way you 
boys have been living out in the open,” said 
Jack. “ But what’s the use of our standing 
here in the hallway when there are comfort- 
able chairs in my den up-stairs?” 

“ And I do feel most uncommonly tired,” 
confessed Dave, stifling a yawn, “for, honestly, 
I didn’t sleep a minute more than twelve 
hours last night.” 

Jack laughed heartily as he led the way 
into the drawing-room. 

Mr. John Lyons, his father, a widely-known 
New York lawyer and promoter, resided in a 
fine mansion on Fifty-seventh Street. Ex- 
ternally, there was nothing about the house 
to distinguish it in any way from the rest of a 
long brown-stone row, but the interior was 
famed for the wealth and beauty of its ap- 
pointments. 


House-boat 


11 


“ Thought you might like to take a look in 
here, fellows,” remarked Jack. “ Dad goes in 
a lot for painting and statuary. Some of these 
things he picked up while abroad. Every- 
thing free for this day only. Step around and 
see the animals.” 

“ It’s simply stunning ! ” cried Bob. 

The furnishings were nearly all of the 
Louis XV period. A beam of sunlight com- 
ing in through a half-opened window caressed 
in its course original chairs and a couch which 
had once adorned an old French chateau. 
Rare tapestries hung on the walls, while 
carved chests and objects of copper and brass 
revealed their presence by rich, glowing 
touches of color. 

Many pictures by old and modern masters 
immediately attracted Dave Brandon’s atten- 
tion. 

“ Aren’t they wonderful ? ” he sighed. 

“ You’ve painted some pictures just as won- 
derful,” said Tommy. 

“ That’s the trouble,” laughed Dave, “ won- 
derful — but in a different way. Your father 
and Mr. Somers seemed to find a lot to talk 
about, Jack.” 


12 


The Rambler Club’s 


A hum of steady conversation was coming 
from an adjoining room which Mr. Lyons 
used as a study. 

“ That reminds me,” said Jack; “you 
chaps will have to unbosom yourselves at 
once. Gold mines, aeroplanes and all sorts of 
hunting experiences seem to have been in* 
your line. Come right up to my den.” 

The room on the top floor which Jack called 
his very own was about twelve by sixteen 
feet, and furnished with several chairs, a desk 
and table. Gridiron heroes and baseball idols 
looked at the beholder from their cardboard 
prisons — Jack had them tacked up all over 
the walls, while a fishing pole and old-fash- 
ioned musket decorated one corner. 

The den did not appear extraordinarily 
neat ; several coats, a pile of books, and a box 
of note-paper with its contents scattered in 
glorious confusion over the desk might have 
offended a fastidious taste. But Jack airily 
explained that a very important matter had 
prevented him from tidying up. 

“ And Til tell you all about it, fellows,” he 
said, animatedly, when his visitors had seated 
themselves. “ We — and by that I mean Joe 


House-boat 


13 

Preston, Aleck Hunt, Fred Winter and my- 
self — have the dandiest scheme. What is it ? 
— Well, I want to hear your story first. Dad 
has been telling me how you found the 4 Ram- 
bler Club’s Gold Mine ’ — he’s a stockholder in 
the company, you know.” 

“ Yes ; and just as soon as father said he in- 
tended to go East to see Mr. Lyons on busi- 
ness we made up our minds to keep him com- 
pany,” said Bob, with a smile. 

“ It means a whole lot of work for me,” 
sighed Dave. 

“ It’s this way,” a peculiarly gruff voice 
broke in — Tommy was speaking — “ Dave 
always writes a history of our trips. He has 
about two thousand, one hundred and ninety- 
seven pages finished up to date. So, of course, 
this New York trip ” 

“ Say, fellows I ” Jack Lyons jumped up 
and began pacing the floor. An idea which 
made his eyes sparkle brightly had suddenly 
entered his head. “ Say, why don’t you 
chaps stay here a couple of weeks?” 

“ Eh ? ” said Tommy. 

“ And then your historian would have some- 
thing worth while to scribble about.” 


H 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ How ? ” asked Dave. 

“ Well, honest, I can’t keep still about it a 
minute longer.” Jack Lyons’ voice indi- 
cated a spirit fairly bubbling over with en- 
thusiasm. “ Why, we’ve got hold of a house- 
boat — a real h-o-u-s-e-b-o-a-t, mind you ; 
and ” 

“ Intend to take a trip somewhere? ” asked 
Tommy, eagerly. 

“ Do we? — Well, I should rather say so! 
It’s all arranged, too. Rah — rah ! The 4 Gray 
Gull,’ Jack Lyons, master, is bound from New 
York to Albany. Now ” — Jack paused ; his 
arm swept around in a half-circle — “ you 
chaps ought to, and, by ginger, must go 
along.” 

“ I felt it coming,” sighed Dave. “ That 
means another book to write.” 

“ How about it?” queried Jack, eagerly. 
“ Don’t say no. It’ll be one of the greatest 
trips you ever had. Joe, Aleck and Fred are 
dandy chaps. Say, can’t you go out with me 
this morning to see our house-boat ? ” 

“ Well, r-a-t-h-e-r,” cried Tommy — “ eh, 
Bob?” 

Bob nodded. 


House-boat 


l 5 


“ Sure thing. It will give us a good chance 
to see a bit of New York. Where is the 
1 Gray Gull/ Jack ? ' 

“ Moored on the Harlem River. Hurray ! 
I’ll call up Joe Preston just as soon as you've 
told me a bit about yourselves. Now, some- 
body, please fire away." 

The “ somebody " happened to be Bob 
Somers, and, as he related modestly the story 
of their many adventures, Jack Lyons' eyes 
opened wider with interest and enthusiasm. 

“ Great Scott ; what corking times ! Don't 
I wish I'd been along. I must tell Joe you’re 
here." And Jack sprang to the side of his 
desk, where the boys noticed a telephone. 

“ Talk about that for a great scheme," re- 
marked Tom. 

“ Talk through it for a greater," returned 
Jack. “ Hello, hello — yes, that's the number. 
Hello, Joe Preston ! Not Joe ! Well, won't 
you please tell him that Jack Lyons is at the 
'phone ? 

“He's at home, fellows." Jack looked up; 
then turned toward the instrument again. 
“ Hello, Joe ! Say, old boy, the Rambler 
chaps are here ; honest — no joke about it. 


16 The Rambler Club’s 

We’re going right out to see the t Gray Gull.’ 
Can you meet us there ? Good ! Yes ; maybe 
they’ll take the trip with us. Wouldn’t that 
be jolly ! You pick up Aleck and Fred. 
Race you ? Sure ! Good-bye.” 

“ Fellows, you’ll meet the whole bunch,” 
laughed Jack, as he hung up the receiver. 
“ Now, I’ll explain how we happened to get 
hold of the house-boat. A client of dad’s, 
who went out west, turned it over to him in 
part payment for his services. If dad didn’t 
know what to do with the ‘ Gray Gull,’ I did ; 
and the way Joe, Aleck and Fred jumped at 
the chance to go on a cruise would have made 
you laugh.” 

“How do you make it go?” asked Dave, 
languidly. 

“ Oh, I’m coming to that. A Mr. Marshall 
we know owned a motor boat ; and, last 
month, this boat motored right into a barge. 
That kind of scared Mr. Marshall — he found 
he didn’t like the sport so much as he thought 
he would ; and what do you think ? ” 

“ Lots of things,” cried the interested 
Tommy; “go ahead.” 

“ When he heard about our house-boat he 


House-boat 


l 7 

said we could have the engine for it. Wasn’t 
that nice of him? ” 

The Ramblers agreed that it showed a 
thoughtful and proper spirit. 

“ That’s what I say,” exclaimed Jack, en- 
thusiastically. “ And he’s going to have the 
motor sent right over, too.” 

“Who will install it in the house-boat?” 
queried Bob. 

“ Jim Benton, a machinist who has done a 
lot of work for dad. But come on, fellows ; 
Joe thinks he can beat us out to the Harlem 
River. And say, Bob, when you get a chance, 
ask your father about going on that trip with 
us.” And Jack, happy and excited, fairly 
dashed out of the room. 

They were on the street in a few moments. 
It was a very hot morning in August, with 
hardly a breath of air stirring. 

“ Fellows, I have a dreadful fear that I’m 
going to melt,” sighed Dave Brandon, vigor- 
ously mopping his face. 

“ Do try to last until you see the house- 
boat,” urged Tom, with a broad grin. 

Seeking shade wherever it could be found, 
the four walked toward the elevated railroad 


18 The Rambler Club’s 

station at Eighth Avenue and Fifty-third 
Street. The city, full of noise, life and color, 
possessed immense attractions for the Ram- 
blers, and Jack Lyons’ patience was sorely 
tried, as they often stopped to look about 
them. When, at last, all had safely boarded 
a train for One Hundred and Fifty-fifth Street 
he breathed a sigh of heartfelt satisfaction. 

“ Dave, this is quite a change, after the 
plains and mountains of Wyoming,” remarked 
Bob Somers. 

The stout boy, gazing through half-closed 
eyes at the rows of buildings and streets flash- 
ing by, nodded. 

“ Not much here to remind us of Lone Pine 
Ranch, Bob,” he said. 

Station after station dropped behind them. 
At One Hundred and Tenth Street the train 
swung around a great curve, with Morning- 
side Heights, crowned by the impressive, 
partly finished cathedral of St. John the Di- 
vine, to their left, while on the right they had 
a good view of the upper end of Central Park. 

“ Isn’t it stunning ! ” cried Bob. 

“ And to think that we’re actually in New 
York,” murmured Tommy. 


House-boat 


*9 

“ One Hundred and Twenty-fifth ! ” called 
out the conductor, a few minutes later. 

The boys caught a glimpse of a wide, busy 
thoroughfare. Then the train sent the rails 
spinning swiftly behind it again, and the 
terminus of the line was soon reached. 

The four, mounting a stairway, found them- 
selves on a great iron viaduct sloping down- 
ward toward the east. 

“ What dandy views ! ” cried Dave Brandon, 
whose languid mood seemed to drop suddenly 
away. “ Magnificent ! Eh, Bob? ” 

“ Corking ! ” Bob’s voice was full of en- 
thusiasm. 

To the northwest rose a high bluff with 
houses on its summit, while near at hand the 
boys could see the famous Polo grounds. 
Some distance off, veiled in a scintillating 
haze, were other hills, with vague suggestions 
of buildings dotted here and there over their 
surface. Smoke from passing tugs on the Har- 
lem River seemed to hover almost motionless 
in the air, sometimes pierced by bursts of 
steam which shone dazzlingly white in the 
sunlight. 

But Jack Lyons was in no mood to appre- 


20 


The Rambler Club’s 


ciate the beauties of this scene ; he wanted not 
only to be the first to arrive at their meeting 
place, but to show his interested visitors the 
“ Gray Gull ” without delay. So he im- 
mediately began walking along the viaduct at 
a rate which made them hustle. 

“ First time I've ever been in a walking 
match," chuckled Tom. “ How far is it ? ” 

“ We’ll soon be there," answered Jack, 
cheerily. “ Joe Preston will never win this 
race." 

In a few minutes they reached a bridge and 
began crossing the Harlem River. 

“ There’s the famous High Bridge, fellows," 
exclaimed Jack, pointing to the north. “ A 
dandy, eh ? And the ‘ Gray Gull ’ is moored 
this side." 

“ Good ! ’’ sighed Dave. 

A noisily-puffing tug, towing a flotilla of 
empty barges, was approaching, and, as a 
hoarse blast came over the silent air and was 
answered by the whistle of another boat, the 
stout boy gave unmistakable evidence of a 
desire to hold up the crowd for the double 
purpose of rest and observation. 

“ Don’t stop, fellows," pleaded Jack. 


House-boat 


21 


All laughed at Dave’s comical expression of 
dismay, and kept on moving. 

A wide roadway led down to the river, and 
this stretch Jack took at a pace which taxed 
even the long-legged Clifton. 

At intervals the New York boy cheerily ex- 
claimed : “ Not much further ! ” or words to 
that effect, and just when Dave was beginning 
to have a dreadful presentiment that this 
meant nearly all the way to the High Bridge 
he varied the monotony by announcing : 
“ Hooray ! I knew we’d beat ’em. There’s 
the house-boat, now.” 

Over the top of an ancient, dilapidated 
lumber barge just a short distance away the 
boys caught sight of the roof of a curious- 
looking craft. 

“ Rah — rah ! ” cried Tom, as Jack broke into 
a run. 

“ The ‘ Gray Gull,’ fellows.” 

These words had the desired effect ; even 
Dave began to sprint, and presently the crowd, 
hot and perspiring, came to a halt upon a 
small, wooden wharf. 

Quite unnecessarily, Jack pointed toward a 
solid, substantial house-boat which lay at the 


22 


The Rambler Club’s 


end. A bit of bunting suspended from a pole 
hung limp, making the white letters on a blue 
ground quite undecipherable. 

“ Isn’t that a dandy?” demanded Jack, 
with enthusiasm. 

“ I should say so,” answered Bob. 

The house-boat was provided with a deck 
that extended about three feet in front of the 
cabin. The interior was roomy and comfort- 
able, and contained bunks, several chairs, a 
table, cooking stove, lockers for their supplies, 
and various wooden pegs upon which to hang 
clothes. A bench ran around two sides. 
Four windows admitted light, and, as its 
former owner had been a man of rather 
fastidious tastes, neat curtains helped to give 
the interior a pleasant, homelike appear- 
ance. 

“ Fall on board, and get out of this heat,” 
said Jack. 

He leaped lightly to the deck, threw open 
a door, and the others quickty followed. 

“There's plenty of room, fellows,” said 
Jack. “ Now, really, aren't you going with 
us?” 

“ I'd like to the worst way,” cried Tommy. 


House-boat 


23 


“ So should I,” admitted Bob. 

“ This cozy interior appeals to me,” said 
Dave, slowly. “ My compliments to the man 
who had sense enough to buy this chair.” 
He sighed contentedly. “ On a nice moon- 
light night ” 

“ You’d get enough inspirations for two 
volumes of poems,” laughed Bob. “ The 
gurgle and lament of restless waves, and all 
that sort of thing — what’s that ? ” 

“ It’s Joe Preston ! ” yelled Jack ; “ here he 
comes, with the others. Oh, Joe — here we are, 
old chap. Hello!” 

A stamping of feet on the wharf and the 
sound of lusty voices which had called forth 
this outburst was followed by several yells of 
greeting. Then the “ Gray Gull ” was jarred 
from stem to stern by three distinct and sepa- 
rate shocks. 

“ A waterquake,” grinned Tommy. “ Yes, 
they’re here, all right.” 

“ Beat us, after all, you old scamp.” 

A rather short and chunky, dark-haired lad 
uttered these words, as he stepped inside, his 
movements materially assisted by a vigorous 
push from behind. 


24 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Joe Preston, fellows,” announced Jack. 

Two other lads were now standing inside 
the door. The introductions which followed 
were of a most informal kind. Aleck Hunt 
was a square-shouldered, blue-eyed boy, while 
Fred Winter, the tallest of the trio, looked 
quite solemn and studious, and his appearance 
indicated his general character. 

There was a great amount of noise and con- 
fusion in the “ Gray Gull’s ” cabin until all 
had found places. 

“ Here’s where Somers and Winter meet,” 
gurgled Jack. 

“ Not bad — for you,” laughed Joe. “ Say, 
Ramblers, Jack’s been talking an awful lot 
about you lately. Let’s hear ” 

“ I knew it,” grinned Bob. “ Dave, it’s 
your turn now.” 

And the stout boy, lolling back in his 
chair, obligingly answered a volley of ques- 
tions. 

Half an hour later Joe Preston exclaimed : 

“ That settles it ! You fellows will simply 
have to go with us.” 

“ And I almost believe we shall,” laughed 
Bob. 


House-boat 


25 


The cabin shook with applause. 

“ Where on earth should we have been but 
for Mr. Marshall’s engine ? ” said Aleck. 

“ On the water,” gurgled Joe. 

“ It ought to be here to-morrow morning,” 
went on Aleck, scorning to notice Joe’s flip- 
pancy. “ To-day’s Monday ; let’s see — Tues- 
day, Wednesday — Thursday we ought to start ; 
and ” 

“ Dash madly up the Hudson at about three 
miles an hour,” laughed Jack. “ Say ! Who’s 
going to do the cooking ? ” 

“ Oh, I heard such a bully story to-day,” 
interrupted Aleck Hunt. “ It was about — let 
me see — oh, yes ; I remember ” 

“ Never mind the story. You can’t get out 
of cooking that way.” 

“ Honest — I don’t believe I could even boil 
water,” pleaded Aleck. “ We’re all feeling 
pretty well just now, and it wouldn’t do to 
take any risks, you know. Now Joe ” 

“ Who said I could cook ? ” demanded Joe, 
arching his eyebrows. “ If you had men- 
tioned Fred ” 

“ Yes ; I’ll do it the very first day,” de- 
clared Fred, eagerly. 


26 


The Rambler Club’s 


But Jack looked at him with a suspicious 
smile, and winked. 

“ Oh, no, my boy,” he said ; “ we’ll take 
turns ; but yours won’t come the first day. 
How about that story of yours, Aleck ? ” 

“ Won’t tell it now,” grumbled Aleck. 
“ Hello ! Who’s that out there ? ” 

Some one had jumped on the deck of the 
boat. Next instant, the door swung partly 
open and a man peered in. He was a large, 
strong-looking man, and, as he pushed the 
door open wider, the boys saw that he carried 
a basket. 

“ Mornin’, gents ! ” he said, in a very hoarse 
voice. “ I was purty sure I heard some one 
in here. Any of you want to buy a purp ? 
I’ve got the likeliest little fellers you ever 
see. Not one of ’em but hain’t got a pedi- 
gree.” And he plunged his hand into the 
basket and drew forth a small, wriggling 
puppy which voiced a protest to such a pro- 
ceeding in a plaintive wail. 

“ Look at ’em, gents. Seventy-five cents ; 
an’ take your choice — a bargain.” He 
dropped the first specimen back, then took 
out another and held it up at arm’s 


House-boat 


27 

length. “ Ain’t it handsome — now, I asks 
you ? ” 

“ Never saw such an ugly pup in my life,” 
answered Joe Preston. 

“ It isn’t very much on shape,” laughed 
Jack Lyons. 

“ Shape ? ” The man’s tone was reproach- 
ful. “ Well, maybe it ain’t the purtiest- 
lookin’ dorg you ever see jist now, but I 
miss my guess if that ain’t what it grows up 
to be. Not one of ’em but hain’t got a pedi- 
gree. Now, gents, which one is it ? ” 

“ Let’s get a mascot for our trip,” remarked 
Joe Preston. “ It’ll be lots of fun.” 

“ That it will, gents. Goin’ over to Europe? ” 
And the big man grinned. 

“ Maybe — if we can reach Jersey first,” an- 
swered Jack. “ Hurry up, fellows ; pick out 
our mascot. My choice is the largest and 
fiercest of the bunch.” 

One with a very black spot on its nose 
and a very white spot on each foot was finally 
chosen and placed on the table. 

“ You won’t never regret a-takin’ of ’im, 
gents,” said the man, as he turned to leave. 
“ He’s got as good a pedigree as any of ’em.” 


28 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ There’s one thing we might have done, 
Jack,” said Fred, solemnly, when they were 
again alone. 

“What’s that?” 

“ Hired that fellow for a fog-horn.” 

“ He has the voice for it, all right,” laughed 
Jack. “ Now what’s to be the name of this 
fierce purp ? ” 

“ Confuse-us,” suggested Joe. 

“ Confuse-us ? ” chorused the others. 

“ Sure ! He was a Chinese philosopher. 
Never hear of him ? ” 

“ Oh, my, oh, my,” snickered Jack ; “ that’s 
a good one. Ha, ha ! You mean Confu- 
cius.” 

“ Oh, what’s the difference ? ” said Joe. 
“ Confuse-us has about the same number of 
letters in it. Quit your laughing, Fred 
Winter.” 

“ But I don’t see the connection,” gurgled 
Aleck. 

“ Call him Confuse-us, because he isn’t a 
Chinese philosopher, that’s why,” said Joe, 
calmly. “ And, besides, doesn’t he look con- 
fused ? ” 

Jack laughed, and so did the others. 


House-boat 


29 

“ It’s as good a name for him as any other,” 
said Fred. 

And so the matter was settled. 

“ Now we have a mascot and an engine,” 
said Jack. “ Hooray ! I can hardly wait for 
the chug-chug to begin.” 


CHAPTER II 


THE ENGINE 

Next morning, bright and early, the boys 
again met at the house-boat. The weather 
still continued hot, with scarcely a breeze to 
ripple the surface of the river. The glassy 
expanse reflected the clear blue sky above ; 
occasionally tugs and other passing craft sent 
long swells rolling shoreward, to break with a 
complaining gurgle against the sides of the 
boat. Smoke and steam drifted lazily upward ; 
and the glare of sunlight made any bit of 
shade refreshing. 

Jack Lyons and Dave Brandon had each 
brought with him a package, Dave’s quite 
long and Jack’s square. These excited a great 
deal of comment. 

But, with a stubbornness that aroused their 
companions’ curiosity to the highest pitch, 
both refused to divulge the nature of their 
contents until the house-boat was entered. 

30 


House-boat 


3 1 

Then, as they stood in the cabin, Joe Preston 
spoke up : 

“ For goodness’ sake, fellows, let’s see what 
you have.” 

Dave smiled in a superior sort of way. 

“ All right, Joe — here goes ; we had this 
with us out west.” And, as the others crowded 
around, he untied the long package. 

“ Gee whiz — a telescope ! ” cried Joe. “ I 
was always going to get one.” 

Joe was noted for his consistent intention 
to do something which somebody else always 
did first. 

“ A beauty,” put in Aleck. “ Let’s have a 
squint through it.” 

“ And won’t it be dandy to look at the 
stars ! ” chimed in Winter, the studious one. 
“ Bully for you, Dave. Now, Jack, what’s in 
the other?” 

“Jiminy, doesn’t the bridge look near?” 
cried Aleck, leveling the telescope through 
the open door. “ Seems as if we were right 
on top of it. And that little boat over there 
isn’t little — it’s big, and — say — what’s this?” 

Jack was holding up a small, framed picture. 

“ What do you think of that, fellows ? ” he 


3 2 


The Rambler Club’s 


asked, proudly. “ I made it myself. Didn’t 
know I could paint, eh ? ” 

“ Best picture of a hat I ever saw,” declared 
Joe. “ Don’t know just what style it is, 
but ” 

“ A hat ? ” A rather sad smile curled 
Jack’s lips. “ A hat?” His voice quite lost 
its accustomed cheeriness. “ Why, that’s the 
house-boat — our house-boat, you blundering 
pirate.” 

“ Why — er — honest — but now I can see it,” 
grinned Joe, with a wink at nothing in partic- 
ular. “ Oh, yes, I was too far away. There’s 
the roof ” 

“ And deck,” chimed in Fred, forgetting 
his usual solemnity, and vainly trying to 
stifle a gurgle. 

“ And you can even read the name,” 
laughed Aleck. “ All done by hand, too. 
The water’s great.” 

“ It ought to be — it’s in water-color, isn’t 
it?” inquired Joe. “Hang it up, Jack. 
Never thought you could do anything like 
that,” and, as Jack looked at him suspiciously, 
he hastened to add, “ Anything so good, I 
mean.” 


House-boat 


33 


“ And now let’s have the tube that makes 
little boats turn into big boats,” said Fred, 
when the painting had been placed in a prom- 
inent position. 

For an hour the lads amused themselves 
with the telescope, and watching the antics of 
“ Confuse-us,” and then began to grow impa- 
tient, fearing that some delay might prevent 
the engine from reaching them that day. 

Then a voice outside caused Jack to spring 
up. 

“ It’s Jim Benton,” he said, as a hail reached 
their ears. 

The machinist, with a bag of tools, clam- 
bered on board. 

“ Hello, Jack ! ” he said. “ Hello, boys ! 
Where’s your engine? ” 

“ Over in Jersey, I’ll bet,” answered Jack, 
in a disgusted tone. “ Sit down, Jim. What 
do you think of this — great, eh ? ” 

“ It’s swell, that’s what it is,” said Jim, 
slowly, as he looked around. “ Fine as most 
any room in town. Bless me ! Wish’t I was 
a youngster ag’in. I’d go with you.” 

“ They said the engine would be here this 
morning,” grumbled Jack. 


34 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Well, the morning ain’t half over yet,” 
said Jim, consolingly. “ Ain’t this here b’ilin’ 
weather, though ? ” 

He settled himself comfortably on the bench, 
and prepared to take a good, long rest. 

The morning passed. Jim ate his lunch, 
while the boys wandered off in search of the 
nearest store. When they returned, hot and 
tired, the wharf wore a deserted look. 

Jim and “ Confusion,” as Fred Winter had 
taken the liberty of calling the pup, were tak- 
ing a nap, but both promptly awoke when 
Joe Preston hit the door a resounding bang 
with his fist. 

“ Sorry,” mumbled Joe, apologetically. 
“ Such things will happen on house-boats.” 

About three o’clock, when hope had been 
given up, a two-horse team rumbled over the 
wharf, and Jack gave a loud cheer. 

“ Hooray, fellows, it’s here,” he announced. 

Then a wild scramble to be the first off the 
boat followed, greatly to the terror of young 
Confuse-us. 

“ I feel thirsty ’nuff to drink the hull river,” 
announced the driver, as he stepped down. 
“ That’s a purty heavy injine. Wish I had a 


House-boat 


35 

piece of gold as big. Where d’ye want it 
put? ” 

“On the boat,” said Winter, solemnly. 

“ All right ! Git up there ! Whoa, boy ! 
Gee-eee. Give me lots of room, you kids. 
Gee-ee — whoa ! If it bumps like that again, 
I’ll look to see it go right through the bottom.” 

When the interesting moment arrived, and 
preparations to unload the heavy boxes had 
been completed, six newcomers, apparently 
having sprung from nowhere, stood around 
and watched the proceedings with all the in- 
terest which spectators generally show. 

The seven boys and two men, after a great 
deal of tugging and perspiring and straining 
of muscles, succeeded in sliding several boxes 
down a pair of heavy planks to the house- 
boat. Then a block and tackle and a number 
of thick timbers were thrown on top, and the 
wagon rattled off. 

The way Jack and his friends ripped and 
tore apart the boxes would have been an in- 
spiring sight to some lazy boys. They forgot 
the heat, labor — everything; and never paused 
until a pile suitable for kindling wood lay on 
the wharf. 


3 6 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ That was done fast, all right,” observed 
Jim, mopping his brow. “ Say, if my boss 
was to see anything like that, he’d wonder 
what he was payin’ me for. Well, now, that 
engine is a mighty fine one.” 

“ We’re ready to get busy in earnest,” said 
Jack, impatiently. 

“ You’ll have to. There’s a whole lot of 
measurements we’ll need ; and it’s got to be 
done just right, you know.” 

“ Fire away,” was Jack’s eager reply. 

“ Wal,” said Jim, reflectively, walking out 
on deck, “ we can’t do the work here. That 
tree over there is just about in the right 
place ; an’ here’s the block an’ tackle. We’ll 
pass a rope ’round the whole shootin’ match. 
Ye’re a strong-lookin’ lot, an’ it won’t take 
long.” 

“ You bet it won’t,” said Bob Somers. 

Ropes were quickly untied. Then the boys 
set vigorously to work with long sweeps, and 
soon succeeded in propelling the unwieldy 
boat toward a shelving beach. 

With Jim’s aid, the heavy block and tackle 
was rigged to the tree, the rope passed around 
the house-boat, and the five took hold. 


House-boat 


37 

“ A long pull, a strong pull, an’ a pull all 
together / 7 commanded Jim. “ Let 7 er go ! ” 

They tugged and pulled, while the perspira- 
tion poured from them in streams, and, after 
long and earnest efforts, the stern of the 
“ Gray Gull 77 was drawn up upon the beach. 

“ Now, what’s to be done ? 77 cried Jack. 

But it was several moments before Jim felt 
capable of replying. He sighed, rubbed his 
aching muscles, and at length said, with ex- 
asperating slowness, “ You see that there stern- 
post in the middle ? Wal, a hole’s got to be 
bored in it for the shaft . 77 

“ All right,” said Jack. “ Where shall we 
place the engine ? 77 

“ We’ll make a bed frame on the cross-beams 
below the deck. Have to tear up the plankin’ 
a bit.” 

“ What else? 77 asked Jack. 

“ That’s all for the present. Take it easy ; 
a month from now you’ll forgit how much 
time ye spent on puttin’ it in.” And with these 
words of wisdom Jim clambered aboard, drew 
out his rule, and began to take measure- 
ments. 

“ Right here,” he said, marking a square on 


The Rambler Club’s 


38 

the floor in the rear part of the cabin, “ ye kin 
take up them boards.” 

The boys worked with a vim, using saw and 
hatchet, and soon a large opening in the 
planking revealed the cross-beams beneath. 
Then they stood aside, while Jim indicated 
where cuttings and borings had to be made. 

“ Make the frame right in place ? ” asked 
Joe. 

“ Sure ! I’m ready now to set in a couple 
of them there beams. It’s goin’ to be a good, 
solid foundation for the bed plate.” 

Jack and Joe sawed two heavy pieces of 
timber to the required length, and then bored 
holes for the bolts. 

“Tote ’em in now,” commanded Jim. 

Following the mechanic’s directions, the 
boys soon had the pieces resting at the proper 
distance apart on the cross-beams ; and Jim, 
after considerable labor, succeeded in bolting 
them securely in place. 

“ Now for a couple o’ crosspieces,” he added, 
with a sigh of satisfaction. 

“ Solid as a rock,” declared the mechanic 
at length, testing the timbers with his foot. 
“ Get the bed plate, an’ bolt it down.” 


House-boat 


39 


When this was done, the five took a well- 
earned rest ; but it was for only a few mo- 
ments. 

“ Now we’ll lower the engine into place, fel- 
lows,” said Jack, jumping to his feet. 

By means of an inclined board and ropes, 
this was done ; and Jim began to verify his 
previous measurements. 

“ I got the angle o’ the propeller shaft just 
right, lads,” he announced, holding a stick 
from the engine to a mark he had made on the 
stern-post. “ The propeller o’ course has to 
be a sufficient distance below the water level.” 

“ Won’t be much pitch to that shaft, eh ? ” 
said Jack. 

“ No ! I made it the least I could,” answered 
the mechanic, wiping his face. “ Too much 
makes the boat lose speed.” 

“ I’ll bore the hole in the stern-post,” vol- 
unteered Jack. 

“ Make it this size,” explained Jim, handing 
the boy an auger. “ It’s large enough to give 
a clearance around the shaft.” 

Jim watched the boy carefully, as the hole 
had to be bored at exactly the right angle. 
Several times he tested the slant with a long, 


40 


The Rambler Club’s 


straight piece of wood, and by this means ac- 
curacy was assured. 

No sooner had the task been accomplished 
than Jim straightened himself up, and took 
out his watch. 

“ Not another stroke to-night, young uns,” 
he said. “ It's gittin’ on to six o’clock, 
and ” 

“ Goodness gracious ! ” exclaimed Jack. 
“ It seems as if we hadn’t worked any time, 
doesn’t it ? Slow job, eh ? ” 

Jim looked pained. 

“ That’s a fine way to talk,” he grumbled ; 
“ an’ me with about twenty different kind o’ 
aches and pains.” 

Jack slapped him on the back, and laughed. 
“ Cheer up, old man. Now mind you get 
here early to-morrow morning ; and we’ll 
finish the job in great shape.” 

“ An’ me, too, I guess,” sighed Jim. 

Time has a stubborn way of moving slowly 
when the reverse is desired ; and Joe insisted 
that on the following morning the sun rose 
fifty minutes late and that the hours were at 
least twenty minutes too long ; and Jack said 
he was right. 


House-boat 


41 


But in spite of time's apparent slowness, 
the seven boys at length found themselves 
again on the house-boat. 

After an hour of tedious waiting Jim 
Benton slowly approached. 

“ Here already ? ” he asked, with pretended 
surprise. 

Some very scornful and indignant looks re- 
warded him ; and Jim chuckled as he stepped 
aboard the house-boat. 

“ Now,” he said, “ we won't fasten nothin’ 
down till it's tested from A to Z.” 

“ What comes first ? ” inquired Joe. 

“ Push the propeller shaft through the hole 
in the stern-post ; then if she fits, we’ll bolt 
the stuffing box in place.” 

“ What’s a stuffing box ? ” asked Joe. 

“ I know what a stuffing boy is,” laughed 
Aleck, as he pointed to a sandwich from 
which the other was taking huge bites. 

“ A metal cylinder fittin' over the shaft,” 
explained Jim. “ It's filled with packin' to 
keep out the water. Jack, you're a hustler. 
Bet you’d never work that hard for your 
livin', though.” 

When the shaft had been put in place, a 


42 


The Rambler Club’s 


coupling was attached to the end, and this in 
turn bolted to a similar coupling on the en- 
gine. 

“ Pretty good work,” commented Jim. 
“ Now we’ll screw on the propeller ; and then 
back to the water it goes.” 

The gasoline tank was installed ; then the 
batteries, spark coil, spark plugs and carbu- 
retor ; and their work now required only 
testing. 

“ Bully job,” declared Jack, enthusiastically. 

“ Know how the engine works?” asked 
Jim, stopping to wipe a very grimy face. 

“ Sure thing, Jim,” laughed Jack. “ This 
way : a mixture of gasoline vapor and air is 
drawn into the cylinder from the carburetor ; 
the spark plug ignites it, and the piston is 
forced downward.” 

“ It’s a number of explosions, one after an- 
other,” put in Fred Winter, solemnly. 

“ The only thing I know about it is this,” 
said Joe, with a grin ; “ when the engine 
makes a noise, it’s going ; and when it doesn’t, 
it’s stopped.” 

“ Why doesn’t it explode straight ahead ? ” 
asked Aleck. 


House-boat 


43 


Jim Benton laughed heartily. 

“ ’Cause the battery connection is broken, 
young un,” he said. “ An automatic ar- 
rangement lets a spark shoot across at just the 
right instant.” 

“ Oh, I see,” said Aleck. 

All but Jim Benton found it very hard to 
stop work. 

“ I’m awful glad none of you fellers ain’t 
my boss,” he said, dryly. “ I ain’t worked 
like this for many a day. Yes, I’ve ordered a 
tank o’ gasoline; an’ it ought to be here 
pretty soon.” 

The fuel, however, was late in arriving ; so, 
leaving Joe in charge, the others set off to see 
about provisions for the trip. Jim Benton 
accompanied them. 

“ Don’t see why they asked me to stay,” 
grumbled Joe, dangling his legs over the 
wharf. “ Gee whiz, here comes the stuff now.” 

A wagon drew up. 

“ Hey ! ” said the driver. 

“ Hey yourself!” said Joe, pleasantly. 
“ Trot off your old gasoline.” 

“ All right, bub ! ” And the man began 
unloading a number of cans. 


44 


The Rambler Club’s 


Joe soon had these aboard the “ Gray Gull,” 
and then began filling the tank. But a little 
labor went a great way with Joe, and he 
quickly tired. The attraction offered by his 
lunch box was not to be resisted. 

“ Must be enough in the old thing to take 
us to Albany,” he grumbled. “ I’ll put in 
some more to-night. ” 

When the boys appeared he greeted them 
by exclaiming : 

“ Everything’s all right, fellows.” 

“ Gasoline in the tank, too ? ” asked Jack, 
with satisfaction. 

“ You bet.” 

“ Shove off. We’ll soon find out how the 
engine works.” 

A loud, long cheer went up as the fly-wheel 
began to revolve. 

“ Hooray ! ” yelled Jack. “ Isn’t this 
great ? ” 

“ Going like a thing o’ life,” grinned Joe. 

“ Speed ’most makes a fellow dizzy,” smiled 
Bob. 

“ The only thing I’m surprised at is to find 
the boat going at all,” remarked Dave Bran- 
don, staring solemnly at the water. 


House-boat 


45 


After skirting the shore for a short distance 
Jim swung the boat around, and she slowly 
chugged her way back to the starting-point. 

“ It's all in good shape, young uns,” he re- 
marked, with a smile of satisfaction. “ Wish’t 
I was going along.” 

“ Mighty glad it's been decided that we 
Jt ^use-boat it,” chirped Tom. “Dandy fun. 
Im glad your father didn’t object, Bob.” 

“ Bet you’ll scrap about the bunks,” said 
Jim. 

“ Not on your life.” Tom Clifton laughed. 
“ Why, we’ll just roll ourselves up in blankets 
and flop down in any old corner.” 

“ Don’t you Ramblers ever sleep in beds ? ” 
queried Jim, with a wink. 

“ Only sometimes,” answered Tom, loftily. 

“ Then we’ll start on our trip to-morrow,” 
declared Jack Lyons, enthusiastically. 

“ To-morrow,” sighed Joe, “ is an awful 
long way off.” 


f 


CHAPTER III 


“ ALL ABOARD ! ” 

Time did, indeed, seem to move with exas- 
perating slowness. None of the impatient 
boys slept very well that night, and each 
arose next morning almost with the sun. 

At an early hour, a group had assembled 
on the ordinarily deserted wharf. There 
were, of course, all the boys, Mr. John 
Lyons, Sr., Mr. George Somers, Bob’s father, 
little Bobby Lyons, Jack’s brother, and Mr. 
Montague Winter, besides other near and 
distant relatives. 

Mr. Lyons, jolly and smiling, examined 
every corner of the boat, gave bits of useful 
advice, and sought to allay the fears of Mr. 
Winter. 

“ I don’t consider it a very safe trip,” ex- 
claimed the latter, nervously. “ There is 
danger of their being run down by the big 
boats.” 


46 


House-boat 


47 

“ But, my dear sir, they have eyes to look 
out for such dangers.” 

“ Then, again, the Hudson is no mill-pond, 
and in case of storms ” 

“ Depend upon it, the boys will be safely 
anchored near shore,” laughed Mr. Lyons. 
“ Jack has promised me to be careful.” 

“ They will have to stop over night in 
some pretty lonely localities, and rough char- 
acters may molest them.” 

Mr. Somers smiled. 

“ I do not think you need have any fears, 
Mr. Winter,” he said, reassuringly. “ Jack 
and his friends are old enough to look out 
for themselves, Bob is used to boats, and a 
trip of this sort should do them a world of 
good.” 

“ Let us hope so, at any rate,” said Fred’s 
father, still a trifle nervously. 

The seven boys were dressed for solid com- 
fort, and had brought with them boots, 
leggins and sweaters. The first flush of 
excitement over, it was noticed that Fred 
Winter wore a broad-brimmed felt hat of un- 
certain age. 

“ I say ” whispered Joe. “ Why ? ” 


4 8 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ I’m not going to get my face burned to a 
blister — that’s why. You’ll catch it from the 
sun and reflections in the water. Better chuck 
those caps away, and ” 

“ Oh, that peaches and cream complexion ! ” 
gurgled Joe. 

The supreme moment had come. The near 
and distant relatives poured forth a steady 
stream of advice and admonition. Several 
curious loungers, all wearing broad grins, 
added a word now and then, and the boys 
had their own troubles in trying to hear as 
little as possible. 

“ All aboard ! ” commanded Jack. 

At last the captain of the house-boat was 
actually casting off the lines. 

Little Bobby Lyons almost danced with 
excitement. 

“ Jack, Jack — don’t forget that letter you’re 
going to send me,” he called. “ And, Jack, 
be sure to — oh, dear, there’s something else I 
wanted to say to you, and — I can’t think of 
it.” 

“ Send a message by wireless,” laughed Joe. 
“ Everything clear, Jack ? That’s good ! Now 
start ’er going.” 


House-boat 


49 

“ Looks like Miles Standish’s cabin,” re- 
marked a bystander. 

“ Them there lads has plenty of go,” said 
another. 

“ That’s more’n the boat will ever have,” 
grinned a third. 

It was an interesting moment. Captain 
Jack’s hand rested on the fly-wheel, and he 
looked at his chums. 

“ Quick, give it a turn ! ” cried Joe, with 
suspense in his tone. 

Jack obeyed, and a series of rapid reports 
immediately followed, bringing forth a round 
of cheers. 

No music could have sounded sweeter to 
the boys than the chug-chug which was car- 
ried away on the breeze. 

As the house-boat slowly swung out into 
the stream, the seven shouted again. Good- 
byes shot back and forth ; Mr. Lyons, Mr. 
Somers and Mr. Winter waved their hands ; 
the loungers shouted and laughed — the voyage 
was begun. 

“ Isn’t this immense? ” said Jack, gleefully, 
as he turned on full power. “ Bet some of 
those chaps on the wharf wish they were 


5 ° 


The Rambler Club’s 


going. What’s that, Joe? Sure, we’ll cross 
the Hudson — get right over to the Jersey side. 
Keep your eyes open, fellows, — we don’t want 
to sink any steamers.” 

“ Keep a sharp watch for icebergs,” said 
Bob. “ Remember the ‘ Titanic.’ ” 

“ Look at the land skipping by,” cried Fred. 
“ Bet we’re going all of three miles an hour.” 

The blue water lapped and gurgled against 
the boat, and a gentle breeze tempered the 
heat. White clouds were slowly passing 
across the sky, and shadows chased each 
other over land and water. To their left 
rose Washington Heights, and to the right 
another ridge of hills was outlined against 
the sky. Houses dotted the landscape, and 
smoke stained and streaked the horizon. 

“ Ja-ck, Jaa-ck ! ” came floating over the 
air ; “ Jaaa-ck ! ” 

“ What’s up now ? ” cried Jack. “ Wonder 
what little Bobby wants.” 

“ Ja-a-a-ck, — Ja-a-a-a-ck ! ” 

“ Better swing around, and see,” counseled 
Bob Somers. 

“ Ja-a-a-a-ck, Ja-a-a-a-a-ck ! ” 

“ Whee, what a howl ! ” said Aleck. 


House-boat 


“ Settles it, anyway,” laughed Jack, as he 
followed Bob’s advice. 

Laboriously the “ Gray Gull ” began to turn 
around, and was finally headed for the wharf. 
The figures on it began to grow more distinct. 

Then came Bobby’s shrill voice again : 

“ Jack, I remember now what I wanted — 
send me some picture postal cards.” 

And Joe slapped Jack on the back ; and 
Jack laughed heartily, and yelled back, “ All 
right, Bobby ! ” And again the course of the 
“ Gray Gull ” was changed, and soon the 
wharf and the figures grew faint again. 

Keeping close inshore, the “ Gray Gull ” 
was often rocked by the long swells from 
passing craft. The Harlem River presented 
quite a busy scene, although they were be- 
yond the portion where the traffic is greatest. 

Occasionally, they were hailed from the 
deck of some barge or schooner, and the 
occupants of a motor boat speeding swiftly by 
gave a series of derisive yells. But the boys 
only laughed, and waved their hands, feeling 
that they wouldn’t exchange the “ Gray Gull ” 
for all the gasoline launches in New York. 

Joe, sweeping the landscape with Dave’s 


5 2 


The Rambler Club’s 


telescope, uttered so many exclamations of 
surprise and pleasure that Aleck promptly 
wrested the glass from his hands. 

“ Where, which and what ? ” he asked. 

“ All three, kind sir,” answered Joe. “ But 
that electric caron Washington Heights looms 
up strangely large. Somebody on it just 
dropped a coin.” 

Aleck looked rather puzzled, that is until 
the speaker added, “ Hurry up and see if he 
finds it. Looked to me like a nickel of the 
year twelve hundred and six.” 

Aleck Hunt raised the glass to his eyes. 

“ Hey ! Did you ever see such a wobble ? ” 
he exclaimed. “ Wouldn’t like to be on a car 
swinging around like that. This glass makes 
my arms ache, too ; and it’s all out of focus. 
Want it back ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Joe, incautiously. 

“ Then you can’t have it,” returned Aleck, 
as he once more raised the telescope. 

“ Better keep her out a bit, Cap’n Jack,” 
yelled Joe Preston. “ Unless you want to 
climb the hill.” 

And Jack, becoming a little bolder, swung 
the “ Gray Gull ” further out into the stream. 


House-boat 


53 

Fred presently relieved him at the tiller. 
Then the others took their turns. 

On the “ promenade deck,” as Jack soon 
christened it, Confuse-us, feeling no doubt 
that the occasion was one of great importance, 
ambled from side to side, gazing curiously at 
the lapping water which splashed and gurgled 
so close beneath his nose. 

Time passed quickly, each moment bring- 
ing something to attract their attention. 

“ Brick barges from Haverstraw,” announced 
Jack, presently, as a tug, moving at a snail's 
pace, puffed laboriously along. A column of 
inky smoke swirled aloft, leaving a long trail 
to slowly dissipate itself in the clear atmos- 
phere above, while jets of steam gleamed in 
the sunlight. Each of the clumsy barges was 
loaded high with bricks, and seemed reluctant 
to follow the valiant little tug. 

As the morning advanced, the breeze 
slightly increased ; the white clouds grew 
thicker, piling themselves up into great 
rounded masses, and the swift changes over 
the landscape, from glancing light to fleeting 
shadow, were pleasing to look upon. 

“ Cap’n Jack,” remarked Joe, suddenly, 


54 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ are we going to stop for lunch, or eat it 
on the wide waste of water ? ” 

“ No stops till the Jersey shore is reached/' 
answered Jack Lyons, decidedly. 

“ Right you are/' said Fred. “Joe is al- 
ways thinking of meal-time. But, please, 
Aleck, trot out the sardines and crackers, the 
cheese and home-made pickles, the pound 
cake and everything else we have." 

And Aleck did. So all but Jack sat on 
deck and talked and ate, and idly watched 
the water foaming and bubbling away from 
the stern, while Confuse-us, fully alive to the 
occasion, trotted from one to another, and, 
with plaintive wails, begged for his share of 
the good things. 

Finally, an indignant voice came from 
Jack, at the tiller. 

“ Say, do you fellows intend to eat all that 
grub ? ” he demanded. 

The others looked at each other rather 
guiltily and meekly said that they didn't. 
But each waited for the other to get up, and 
not until Joe, Aleck and Tom were forcibly 
ousted from their position did Jack come in 
for his own. 


House-boat 


55 


“ Sure as guns, we’re getting near the Hud- 
son,” remarked Fred, an hour later. “ It’s 
right around that bend.” 

“Can’t get there too soon for me,” said 

Aleck. “ And — and ” He drew a long 

breath. 

“ And what? ” asked Joe. 

“ I won’t be sorry to get across. It's pretty 
wide, you know, and this floating log cabin is 
a good mark for ” 

“ Ha, ha ! Aleck’s getting scared already,” 
laughed Joe. 

“ I am not, and ” 

“ Hello, boys — the Hudson ! ” 

Jack’s voice rang out cheerily, as he peered 
ahead and caught a glimpse of a broad ex- 
panse of water, framed in by a wall of frown- 
ing cliffs on the Jersey shore. 

“ And just think,” said Fred, in a reflective 
tone, as he pointed toward a tree-covered slope 
on the left, “ that's the end of Manhattan 
Island, one of the most remarkable places in 
the world.” 

“ Got that sentence out of a book, didn’t 
you ? ” inquired Dave with a smile. 

Slowly, the “ Gray Gull ” chugged its way 


The Rambler Club’s 


56 

toward the greater river. The boys looked 
eagerly about them. At the point of junction, 
the Harlem is spanned by a railroad bridge, 
and just as the house-boat reached it a heavy 
freight train rumbled overhead. 

“ Glad I’m not on it,” observed Tommy 
Clifton, with a wink. “ Must be fierce to go 
poking along like that.” 

“ Gee whiz, doesn’t the Hudson look 
wide ! ” exclaimed Jack, shading his eyes. 
“ Lots of boats to steer clear of, too. What’s 
that, Bob? All the power is on, my boy. 
We can’t go any faster, unless you get out and 
push.” 

Gradually the house-boat drew away from 
the hills on either hand, and was headed di- 
rectly across the river. The sunlight, stream- 
ing between a break in the clouds, reflected in 
the water, which the freshening breeze had 
kicked up into choppy waves. They tumbled 
against the sides of the craft with a strange, 
melancholy swish. Now and then shining 
drops splashed over the bow, and Confuse-us 
hastily retired within. 

“ Looks an awful distance across,” remarked 
Jack, again. 


ouse-boat 


57 


“ We’re so/close to the water — that’s why,” 
said Dave Jjrandon. “ But doesn’t it seem 
lonely out hefe, fellows ? ” 

“ And tak^ a squint at those sea-gulls,” 
added Joejpointing toward a flock of birds 
circling a^ove. 

The JSudson greatly impressed the boys 
with Ms vastness. The river, viewed from a 
height of only a few feet, presented a very 
diff^erit picture from the one so familiar to 
passengers on excursion and ferry-boats. 

A vagu| sense of danger stole over the oc- 
cupants j^the house-boat. The little craft 
mnirorl j^ri tilyT**^^ could well imagine 

how, in case of a squall, it would be at the 
mercy of the foam-crested waves. However, 
such thoughts soon vanished. The smell of 
tha .water was pleasant, and the boys, leaning 
connfrrfcftbly-| against the side of the boat, 
sniffed the a|r with keen pleasure. 

Straight ihead, a big, lumbering schooner 
slowly made its way down the river, the 
breeze being just sufficient to fill out her dingy 
gray sails.} Shouts and commands reached 
their ears With astonishing clearness, even 
above the steady chug-chug of the motor. 


The Rambler Club’s 


58 

“ Nice mess we’d be in, if the engine should 
break down,” remarked Aleck. 

“ If anything is going to happen, now’s the 
time,” said Tom. “ We’re just about in the 
middle of the river.” 

A big excursion steamer was passing astern. 
Many passengers, crowding to the rails, 
watched the house-boat with every evidence of 
interest. Several waved their hands and 
shouted, and the boys answered with yells 
and whistles and all the noise of which they 
were capable, until the boat began to rock and 
wobble on the heavy swells. 

“ Thunderation ! ” exclaimed Joe, loudly. 

His stool had flown from under him ; and 
Joe, wildly grasping at the empty air, sprawled 
full length on the deck, and but for Dave’s 
prompt assistance would have rolled into the 
river. 

“ Jiminy ! ” panted the boy, picking himself 
up, rather red and confused. 

“ Came near being a good cold bath for 
one,” grinned Aleck. And all laughed but 
the victim. 

The bold, rocky forms of the Palisades 
began to stand out clearly. At their base and 


House-boat 


59 


part way up the slope were masses of trees 
and vegetation ; but the general appearance 
was that of an almost vertical wall, now glis- 
tening in the sunlight, then deep in shadow. 
The cliffs looked so big and grand that all 
were impressed. 

“ I tell you what,” remarked Jack, after a 
long survey, “ it’s a mighty good thing the 
quarrymen were stopped from blasting those 
rocks. I heard father say they were doing 
enormous damage, and spoiling the ” 

“ Natural beauty of the scene,” suggested 
Joe. 

“ That’s it. A whole lot of people got to- 
gether after a while and persuaded the author- 
ities to make a big slice of the Palisades into a 
public park. It’s dandy up there.” 

Numbers of swift motor boats were going 
up and down, and the sound of rapid pulsa- 
tions filled the air. Along the shore, at 
intervals, the white tents of campers-out 
flashed between the trees ; and streamers of 
bluish smoke floated slowly in front of the 
rocks. It was a picturesque and beautiful 
scene. 

When about three hundred feet from shore, 


6o The Rambler Club’s 

Jack changed his course, heading up the 
river. 

The “ Gray Gull ” attracted considerable 
attention ; the campers-out gathered at the 
water’s edge, and their yells were answered 
with interest ; the occupants of passing motor 
boats beamed upon them with kindly con- 
descension. 

“ Those fellows think they’re the biggest 
things on the river,” grinned Joe ; “ but give 
me the ‘ Gray Gull ’ every time.” 

“Me, too,” said Tom. “ Plenty of room to 
move around in, and all the comforts of home.” 

“ Swell, eh ? ” said Aleck. 

“ That’s the word for it,” answered Joe. 
“ Dandy place to camp, over there ; but if we 
want to reach Albany before the summer’s 
over, we can’t do much of that.” 

“ One thing is going to help us, though,” 
put in Fred. 

“ What’s that ? ” 

“ The tide.” 

“ Why, yes — so it will ; and keep us back, 
too, when it’s running out.” 

“ Not if we time our stops the way we 
ought to.” 


House-boat 


61 


“ If you fellows wish, I can figure out just 
how it changes. I think there’s about an 
hour’s difference every day.” 

“ That’s knowledge for you,” laughed Jack. 
“ Don’t wonder you wear glasses, and forget 
to smile at times, old chap.” 

“ It’s one of the terrible effects of deep 
thought,” grinned Joe. “ But still, I should 
say so much brain work isn’t necessary just 
now. We’ll drop in a string — if it floats 
down — well — it follows ” 

“ The tide,” said Jack. 

“ Aristotle would have envied such reason- 
ing as that,” laughed Dave Brandon. “ What 
a relief to know that the weighty problem is 
settled.” 

Becoming emboldened by the ease with 
which he handled the “ Gray Gull,” Jack de- 
cided to venture further out into the stream. 

For half an hour they had kept their 
course, when Fred Winter adjusted his glasses, 
and, looking straight ahead, exclaimed : 

“ That tug is coming along mighty fast ; 
which side do you suppose it will pass ? ” 

“ H’m,” said Jack, rather doubtfully, “ they 
must look out for themselves.” 


62 


The Rambler Club’s 

Two short, sharp whistles suddenly sounded ; 
and the boys looked at each other and the 
swiftly approaching tug in some apprehen- 
sion. 

“ What does that signal mean ? ” asked 
Fred, nervously. 

No one answered ; Jack seemed puzzled ; 
but something had to be done quickly, as the 
“ Gray Gull ” was almost directly in line. 
With a quick movement, he steered to star- 
board, just as the tug swung to port. 

“Gee whiz!” yelled Joe, excitedly. “We’re 
going to get smashed to bits.” 

A chorus of exclamations rang out, blend- 
ing in with another sharp signal from the 
tug. 

“ What’s to be done? ” gasped Aleck Hunt, 
in dismay. 

It was a moment of great excitement. 
None understood the commands which were 
hurled over the air ; it seemed as if nothing 
could prevent the two craft from coming to- 
gether. The dismayed boys stood almost 
motionless, while the black hull cut swiftly 
toward them. 

Suddenly Jack Lyons, realizing what was 


House-boat 


6 3 

to be done, swung the tiller far around ; 
quick action of those on the tug sent its 
prow outward. 

“ Great Scott ! ” breathed Jack. 

So close that his hand outstretched could 
have touched it, the tug passed abreast ; then 
the “ Gray Gull ” began to bob up and down 
on the waves. 

The engine of the “ Gray Gull ” had been 
reversed, and it was coming to a stop. 

“ That was a narrow escape,” cried Bob. 

“ I should say so,” said Jack, in shaky 
tones. 

“ Hey ! What’s the matter with you fel- 
lers ? ” 

A grizzly, weather-beaten man leaning over 
the rail of the tug was glaring sternly toward 
them. 

“ Don’t you know anything about river 
signals ? ” demanded the other, sharply. 

“ No — that is ” began Jack, in some 

confusion. 

“ I thought so,” said the captain, grimly. 
Then, as his eyes took in the pleasing appear- 
ance of the lads, his tone softened. “ Yer 
want ter l’arn ’em, young fellers,” he coun- 


The Rambler Club’s 


64 

seled. “ It’s risky enough on the water with- 
out not havin’ no knowledge o’ them things. 
Stick what I’m goin’ ter tell yer in them 
noddles of yourn ; an’ don’t let it git out — 
understand ? ” 

“ Yes, yes ! ” chorused his hearers. 

“ Wal, one short whistle means we’re goin’ 
ter starboard ; two of ’em says steerin’ ter 
port ; and three, engine is reversed. Don’t 
forgit it, now.” 

“ No siree ; we’ll write it down,” said Jack. 
“ Jolly well obliged to you, sir.” 

“ That’s all right, young feller. Whar’ are 
ye bound ? ” 

“ To Albany.” 

The captain guffawed loudly ; and several 
of his crew laughed, also. 

“ Wal, mebbe ye’ll git thar this year, an’ 
mebbe ye won’t,” he said. “ Good v’y’ge an’ 
pleasant weather ! ” And, with a wave of his 
big hand, the captain turned away, for the tug 
“ Juno ” was again in motion. 

“ Dandy fellow, that,” commented Jack. 
“ We’ve learned something, too.” 

“ But nearly had our trip ended before it 
was begun,” added Dave. 


House-boat 


65 

The late afternoon found them opposite 
Yonkers. Factories lined the water-front ; 
and the town, rising on a hill beyond and 
bathed in a mellow glow, formed a pictur- 
esque background. 

“ Let’s anchor here,” said Jack. “ Tide’s 
running in fast ; but we don’t need to get ex- 
cited about it.” 

“ That’s right,” said Joe. “ Grub time can’t 
be made to wait for anything less than an 
earthquake or cyclone.” 

“ I’ll cook to-night,” went on Jack. “ Your 
turn to-morrow, Joe. Scat, Confuse-us! 
What’s that, Joe? Do you want a menu 
card ? Til write one out, and ” 

“ Oh, hang the ‘ me knew ’ card, you silly 
amateur pirate,” said Joe. “ If me knew, I 
wouldn’t have asked. Tell us gently what 
it’s going to be.” 

“ Sing it to him,” grinned Aleck. “ Say, 
that’s a nice little launch coming across.” 

“ It’s the ferry,” explained Jack, with an 
air of superior wisdom. “ Runs between 
Yonkers and this big pile of rocks, — been on 
it often.” 

The “ Gray Gull ” was run nearer the 


66 


The Rambler Club’s 


shore ; then Jack shut off power, and, a min- 
ute later, the anchor was heaved overboard 
and disappeared with a tremendous splash in 
the rippling water. 

Deep shadows were soon stealing over the 
landscape ; and the towering crags outlined 
themselves against golden clouds and pearly 
green sky. 

When dusk came, Jack lighted the lanterns. 

“ I know one thing about this river busi- 
ness, anyway,” he remarked. 

“ Surprised to hear it,” said Joe, cheerfully. 

“ If I didn’t want to show my knowledge, 
I wouldn’t tell you, after that,” laughed Jack. 
“ This green light goes on the starboard side, 
red on the port, and white placed forward.” 

“ Looks fine,” commented Tom Clifton 
when the lanterns were in position. “ Makes 
me feel like a real mariner.” 

When the lantern which hung from the 
middle of the ceiling had been lighted, the 
interior of the house-boat seemed doubly at- 
tractive. 

Jack proved himself to be a good chef ; and 
the others praised his cooking with an ear- 
nestness that amounted to enthusiasm. 


House-boat 


67 

After supper, it was voted too late to go 
ashore ; but Bob Somers’ suggestion that the 
voyage be continued was acted upon, in spite 
of a protest from Fred. 

“ Oh, sugar ! ” he said. “ Why not let’s 
read ? I brought some dandy books along ; 
but who in the dickens could enjoy ’em with 
that engine making such a thundering racket? ” 

“ Oh, bother your old books,” said Joe. 
“ I’ve got something better than that.” 

“ What ? ” 

“ I’m going to write a history of the trip.” 

“ Goodness ; my job as historian is threat- 
ened,” murmured Dave. 

“ Gee whiz ! A history of the trip? ” 

“ Certainly ! Why not ? ” 

“ Begin to-night, eh ? ” 

“ No — to-morrow.” 

“ Oh, oh ! ” 

And the rest began to chuckle and gurgle, 
and Joe scornfully walked out on the prom- 
enade deck, closely followed by Confuse-us. 

The moon shone brightly, and a cool, re- 
freshing breeze came from the west. Masses 
of clouds, now gray and solemn-looking, rested 
in the rapidly darkening sky. Yonkers was 


68 


The Rambler Club’s 


aglow with lights. Singly and in clusters, 
they flashed from the line of hills and along 
the water-front. As Joe sat down, he heard 
the whistle of a locomotive and saw one of 
the New York Central trains skirting the 
river. At the base of the Palisades, a lone 
camp-fire spurted tongues of flame against 
the gloom beyond, and the sighing breeze 
brought with it the sound of voices. 

“ Up anchor, fellows,” commanded Captain 
Jack. “ Guess we can make a mile or two.” 

Willing hands seized the chain, and, with a 
rattle and bang and lots of unnecessary noise, 
the anchor was dragged aboard. 

“ Great difference between the night and 
day,” remarked Aleck. 

“ You bet — it’s darker,” said Tom, with a 
grin. 

“ If I weren't jealous of such brilliant con- 
versation, I'd help it along by asking which 
is darker?” observed Fred Winter. “ Say, 
you chaps certainly do waste a lot of words 
over nothing.” 

“ Correct,” put in Joe, “ and here's another 
sample. Kind o' queer-looking on the river 
— pretty black, at times, I guess. Never 


House-boat 69 

struck me before how hard it must be to 
pilot a big steamer on a pitch dark night.” 

“ Don’t think I should care to try it,” said 
Fred, with a slight shiver. 

A bit out, the waves were choppy, and the 
dory at the stern bobbed merrily up and 
down. The moon played hide-and-seek with 
the silver-edged clouds, and threw a strange, 
weird light over the landscape. 

“ Guess I’ll tell you that story I heard now, 
fellows,” remarked Aleck Hunt. “ Say, Jack, 
you know Joe Archer, the chap who played 
short-stop on our baseball team — well ” 

“ Hello, what’s the matter ? ” interrupted 
Jack. 

The pulsations of the motor had suddenly 
ceased. 


CHAPTER IV 


A VOICE IN THE NIGHT 

Captain Jack stepped inside, with an ex- 
clamation, and gave the fly-wheel a twist. 

“ What’s wrong with the thing ? ” queried 
Bob Somers. 

“ Don’t know yet,” answered Jack, his tone 
betraying a trace of anxiety, “ but I’ll find out 
in a jiffy — have to ; the tide’s carrying us 
right out, and it’s a risky business floating 
around on the river at this time o’ night. 
Get outside, Joe, and keep your eyes peeled.” 

Jack set to work. He first tested the bat- 
teries, and found them in working order, then 
examined the spark plugs. 

“ Nothing the matter there,” he remarked, 
in a perplexed tone. 

“ Feed pipe all right? ” asked Aleck. 

“ Of course it’s all right.” 

“ How about the carburetor ? ” said Dave. 

“ Can’t see anything wrong with that ; and 
70 


House-boat 


7 > 

I’m not going to take it apart unless I have 
to.” 

“ Try the engine again,” suggested Bob, 
after they had spent some little time upon it. 

Jack did so ; but the only result was one 
faint report. 

“ Very queer,” he mused. 

“ All right ? ” called a voice from outside. 

“ Certainly,” responded Jack ; “ except that 
it won’t go.” 

Jack threw himself upon the bench, and 
started to think it out. While thus engaged, 
and, for the moment, quite oblivious to his 
surroundings, he was startled by exclamations 
from his chums. 

“ Hey there ! ” shouted Joe in excited tones, 
as he suddenly popped his head inside. 
“ Somebody out on the river yelling for help 
—listen ! ” 

The boys made a concerted dash for the 
deck, just as a faint cry floated over the air. 

“ By Jingo, I wonder what that means ! ” 
cried Bob, looking eagerly around. “Which 
side does it come from ? — Hello ; I see some- 
thing out there.” 

“ Where — where ? ” chorused the others. 


7 2 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Eight to the left of Yonkers. Jiminy, 
the moon had to go back of a cloud just at the 
wrong time.” 

“ Help ! ” 

The cry again caused their nerves to tingle, 
and all strained their eyes in the direction 
which Bob pointed out. 

As a flood of pale moonlight once more 
streamed between the clouds, a dark object 
could be seen not more than a quarter of a 
mile away. 

“ That’s it, sure enough ! ” cried Aleck 
excitedly. “ Looks like a rowboat. Some- 
body may be in a pretty bad pickle, and no 
boats near enough to help him. If our engine 
was only all right, we might get there in time 
ourselves. There, he hollered again.” 

“ What’s to be done ? ” asked Joe, blankly. 

The boys looked at each other and shook 
their heads. Then Bob Somers’ lips suddenly 
tightened and an expression came over his 
face which the Ramblers knew from experi- 
ence meant a determined resolve. 

“ Fellows,” he said, quickly, “ I’m going 
out in the dory. We can’t stand around and 
not try to help him.” 


House-boat 


73 

“ Good boy,” said Joe. “ That’s the idea 
exactly. Let me go along, eh ? ” 

But Bob shook his head. 

“Can’t, Joe,” he answered, laconically. 
“ Not room enough. Do what you can with 
the engine, Jack, and all keep a sharp look- 
out. I’m off. What’s that ? ” 

A faint ray of light suddenly flashed its way 
through the darkness, slowly moved up and 
down, then swung around and disappeared. 

“ Search-light,” cried Bob, hurriedly. 
“ Some steamer coming along — yes, there it is. 
See — away off? But I can’t wait.” 

He dashed inside, seized the oars, while Joe 
Preston hauled in the rope and the dory was 
brought alongside. 

Bob speedily clambered in and set a lantern 
in the bow, then with the aid of an oar, 
shoved off. 

“ Look out for yourself,” cried Jack Lyons. 
“ For goodness’ sake, be careful.” 

“ Don’t bother about me, fellows,” said Bob, 
cheerily, and he bent to the oars, while his ex- 
cited friends watched the dory melting into 
the darkness, the lantern reflecting in erratic, 
wriggling lines. 


74 


The Rambler Club’s 


Bob pulled with long, steady strokes. 
Every ounce of strength in his muscular 
arms was brought into play, and in a few 
moments the house-boat assumed a strange, 
weird appearance in the gloom. He could 
still hear the voices of his chums, and yelled 
a cheery, “ All right, fellows,” then strove with 
might and main, as another call for assistance 
was borne to his ears. 

The choppy water lapped and gurgled, and 
the dory’s sharp bow plunging in sent a 
shower of drops flying aboard. It was all 
very dark and mysterious on the river and a 
strange sense of loneliness stole over the 
young skipper. The waves were higher now, 
and as they bore down upon the frail craft its 
occupant was forced to carefully judge his 
strokes. 

Again the ray of the search-light flashed 
across the water and a glance over his shoulder 
enabled him to get a clear view of the ap- 
proaching steamboat. 

“ If the sky were only clear, it would be 
twice as easy,” he murmured. “ Still, I 
haven’t much further to go. Whew, this is 
quite an adventure for the first day.” 


House-boat 


75 


The rowboat was not far ahead now, and, 
as the moon again appeared in view, Bob saw 
in it a man waving his arms. 

“ I’ll be with you in a minute,” he yelled, 
and an answering shout floated over the 
water. 

But the last stretch dragged out, and when, 
with aching arms and panting breath, Bob 
neared the boatman in distress, the steamer 
with the flaring search-light was not far away. 

“ You’re just in time,” called the man, over 
the intervening space. “ My old boat sprung 
a leak and is half full of water.” 

His voice was pleasant and youthful, and 
when the rays of the lantern fell across him, 
Bob saw the good-looking, clear-cut features 
of a man about twenty-one. 

“ By George, I owe you a debt of gratitude,” 
he cried, in a tone of great relief. “ I’m not 
much of a swimmer.” 

He laughed, nervously, then paused and 
looked at Bob in surprise. 

“ Why ! ” he exclaimed, “ I — never — ex- 
pected to ” and he stopped again. 

“ Expected what ? ” asked Bob. 

“ Well, to speak frankly, I’m surprised to 


76 The Rambler Club’s 

see a boy. Where in the world did you come 
from ? ” 

“ We — that is some fellows and myself — 
have a house-boat over there,” explained Bob, 
waving his hand. “ See those lights over 
there ? That’s it. Heard you shout, but 
couldn’t come over because the engine’s out of 
order.” 

“ In search of adventures,” laughed the 
young man, who seemed to have recovered 
from his scare. 

“ Yes, and this is number one,” grinned 
Bob. “ Be careful when you climb aboard — 
this dory’s a cranky little boat — mighty easy 
to upset.” 

“ And we must look out for the swells from 
that steamer. Guess it’s one of the Albany 
boats.” 

Bob skilfully paddled close to the sinking 
boat and glanced at the steamer not a hun- 
dred yards away. Her windows were aglow 
with lights and the water close by quivered 
and shook like molten gold. A powerful 
search-light cut its way against the blackness, 
and Bob uttered an exclamation as its rays 
suddenly swept across the rugged face of the 


House-boat 


77 

Palisades, bringing out their forms with 
strange sharpness against the clouded sky. 

As yet, the young man had made no move 
to clamber aboard, and Bob rightly guessed 
that he was waiting until the swells due from 
the steamer should have subsided. 

For the moment, the weird pictures brought 
into view by the search-light held him in a 
spell. Alternating lights and shadows played 
fantastically over the rocks. Then it vanished. 
Deep gloom again enfolded the cliffs, and the 
search-light, slowly sweeping across the dark 
river, picked out the familiar form of the 
“ Gray Gull.” 

“ Look ! ” gasped Bob, in delight. 

There, bathed in the electric beams, the 
strange-looking house-boat could be seen, 
floating out on the tide. As if those on the 
steamer wished to study such an unusual 
sight, the light was played upon it for several 
moments. Then the night suddenly covered 
it again. 

Having had his eyes fixed steadily on the 
search-light, Bob found that his surroundings 
assumed a very black and forbidding appear- 
ance. The waves splashed and lapped with a 


The Rambler Club’s 


78 

peculiar, monotonous chant, and over the air 
came the river noises, the puffing of tugs and 
whistles of various boats in the distance. 

As the dory answered to the call of the 
choppy masses, Bob thought of his situation, 
adrift on the great Hudson. How strange and 
mysterious it seemed, with both shores lost in 
the gloom of night. 

“ Look alive there ; it’s coming ! ” 

A long roller was rushing shoreward, fol- 
lowed by a succession of others. Bob saw 
them looming dimly in the half-obscured 
moonlight. The foremost seemed to glimmer 
for an instant, then the dory was carried high 
over its foaming crest and plunged down on 
the other side, to meet another which sent it 
heeling almost to the gunwale, while drench- 
ing spray dashed over the skipper. 

For an instant, the water battled with 
fury against the frail craft, but Bob Somers’ 
arms were sturdy, and he managed to keep 
the dory headed toward the waves. Soon the 
violent wobbling ceased, and he pulled along- 
side the other boat. 

“ I’m just as wet as you are, now,” he said, 
with a smile, “ even though we’re not in the 


House-boat 


79 

same boat,” and Bob chuckled at his own wit- 
ticism. “Ready? I’ve got her tight.” 

“Yes, ready now,” answered the stranger. 

He stepped lightly from one boat into the 
other. Then Bob quickly fastened a line to 
the water-logged craft. 

“ I certainly am thankful for your timely 
aid,” said the young man, extending his hand. 
“ Perhaps I oughtn’t to admit it, but I was get- 
ting pretty badly scared. I was afraid that 
my boat might go down at any minute. I’m 
completely played out — couldn’t make any 
headway at all. My name is Norman Red- 
fern.” 

Bob introduced himself and, in a few words, 
explained about their trip. 

“ How did your boat happen to spring a 
leak ? ” he asked. 

“ I don’t know. But I noticed a bit of 
water coming in when I rowed over to Yon- 
kers. It wasn’t much, and I thought it had 
merely splashed over the side. Coming back, 
though, it got worse and I finally decided that 
if any one was within hearing distance I 
needed his help.” 

“ Glad we heard you,” said Bob, heartily. 


8o 


The Rambler Club’s 


Progress with the other boat in tow was 
very slow, and the boy’s arms began to ache. 
He cast many a glance over his shoulder, to 
note the position of the “ Gray Gull,” which 
was revealed by the lanterns. 

“ Hard work, eh ? ” remarked Norman. 
“ Let me give you a hand.” 

But Bob shook his head and pulled away, 
while the perspiration poured over his face. 

“ Listen ! ” he exclaimed presently. “ Lis- 
ten ! ” 

A steady chug-chug suddenly started up, 
and the faint lights began to slowly move 
toward them. 

“ Isn’t that great?” panted Bob, gleefully. 
“ Hooray ! We’ll just wait for ’em on the 
bosom of the rolling deep.” 

“ Good idea,” assented the other. 

And Bob, lolling back, watched the house- 
boat’s lights growing brighter with great satis- 
faction. 

“ Hello, fellows ! ” he yelled, with all the 
strength of his lusty lungs ; and a chorus 
of voices immediately answered from the 
distance. 

In a short time, the “ Gray Gull ” loomed 


House-boat 


81 


up close at hand, and a loud cheer arose when 
the eager boys saw Bob and his companion 
safe and sound. The pulsation of the engine 
ceased, and the house-boat came to a stop. 
Then the two were helped aboard, while Con- 
fuse-us, alarmed at the noise, fled in terror to 
the darkest corner. 

Mutual explanations and introductions fol- 
lowed. 

“ What was the matter with the engine ? ” 
asked Bob. 

“ Nothing. The supply of gasoline gave 
out, and but for those extra cans we might 
have floated for — well, put it down at as 
many days as you like.” 

Fred Winter laughed, then added, “ Joe 
Preston was going to see that it was full, and, 
of course ” 

“ Forgot,” finished Joe, not in the least dis- 
turbed. “ Next time Pm going to sublet my 
contract. Hard work doesn’t agree — well 
say, Bob, what’s the matter — waves out there 
mountain high, or just a cloudburst? ” 

Then the whole story had to come out, and 
a ripple of mirth went around the room. 

As the rescued boatman stood in the 


82 


The Rambler Club’s 


brightly-lighted interior of the house-boat, the 
four saw that he was a very good-looking young 
man of slight build. His refined speech and 
manner were in striking contrast to his worn 
and threadbare clothes. 

He was enthusiastic about the house-boat 
trip. 

“ I wish I were going with you,” he said 
rather wistfully. “ If you use your eyes to 
advantage a great deal can be learned. Travel 
broadens one’s views, and even in a short trip 
of this sort habits of self-reliance are formed. 
How far are you going — to Albany, eh?” 

The smile on his face suddenly vanished, 
and he gazed reflectively at the floor. 

“ Know the city ? ” asked Joe. 

“Yes, very well. It’s a nice town, and 

I ” He stopped short and looked at his 

watch, then added, “ Hello ! What’s that in 
the corner — a telescope? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Fred. “ Some night we’re 
going to have a look at the stars.” 

Norman Redfern seemed greatly interested ; 
he walked over, picked up the instrument 
and examined it carefully. 

“ A very good one,” he said, approvingly. 



% * 


I WISH I WERE GOING WITH YOU 



. 


































































House-boat 83 

“ Too bad the boat isn’t steady enough for us 
to take an observation.” 

“ Why not go ashore ? ” asked Fred, eagerly. 

Redfern glanced at the others, and they 
nodded. 

“ A great idea,” said Bob ; “ though it 
isn’t a very good night.” 

“ We can get flying glimpses between the 
flying clouds,” grinned Tom. “ Come ahead.” 

The “ Gray Gull ” was headed for shore. 
Jack Lyons took her in as far as he dared ; 
then the anchor was put over, and the house- 
boat came to a rest for the night. The 
Palisades, dim and mysterious, loomed high 
above them. From the shore came the mu- 
sical sighing of the trees, and faint rustlings, 
as the underbrush was swayed by the gentle 
breeze. To the boys, it sounded very much 
like footsteps going and coming ; and more 
than one felt rather creepy sensations steal 
through him. 

Jack, Norman Redfern and Joe Preston 
jumped into the dory and pulled away, with 
the other boat in tow. 

“ Isn’t it dark ? ” observed Norman. 

“ Kind o’ spooky,” said Joe. 


8 4 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ And awful gloomy,” chimed in Jack. 

Jack landed his passengers ; then returned 
for the others. As they walked along, the 
flashing rays of their lantern flitted over the 
shore in a strangely fantastic manner, now 
and then dimmed by a flood of pale moon- 
light. 

“ Here’s a pretty good tree,” declared Dave 
Brandon, at length. “ Only wish we’d 
brought our telescope stand along. Still, 
this lower limb will do as a rest.” 

“ Yes ; that’s the idea,” said Fred. 

“ Of course,” went on Redfern, “ this is a 
very poor way to use a telescope ; a firm 
stand is essential, even for small instruments ; 
and a moonless night would be much better 
for observing the stars. But Luna herself is 
such an interesting object that we should be 
satisfied. How many of you have seen it ? ” 

“ I have,” answered Jack, “ at the Harvard 
observatory.” 

“ And we fellows have often studied it 
through Dave’s telescope,” said Bob. 

“ Who discovered the moon ? ” asked Joe. 

“ Do get over your silliness,” said Fred, 
witheringly. “ It’s growing on you.” 


House-boat 85 

Jack was allowed first glimpse through the 
telescope. 

The surface of the moon, with its mountains 
and deep black craters and portions here and 
there just a shade less brilliant than the rest, 
is always an interesting object, and Jack 
uttered an exclamation of pleasure as he 
placed his eye to the tube. 

“ What are those funny light streaks near 
the bottom ? ” he asked. 

“ Do they all seem to radiate from one of 
the craters ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Jack. “ And, my, but don’t 
they spread out for a distance, though ? ” 

“ Their nature is not perfectly understood,” 
explained Redfern. “ It is generally believed 
that they are in some way connected with 
volcanic upheavals, but just exactly what 
story the} 7 have to tell no one knows.” 

“ Very strange,” murmured Jack. 

“ Don’t suppose that even Joe knows all 
about it,” remarked Fred Winter. 

“ Never looked through a telescope — that’s 
the reason,” retorted Preston, with a laugh. 

“ Don’t some of those craters look black, 
though ? ” said Jack. 


86 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ That’s due to the absence of any atmos- 
phere on the moon,” commented Norman. 
“ You know of course that there’s no water or 
vegetation to be found on its surface. If you 
were there, you would see no soft, hazy effects, 
nothing but a brilliant glare, intensely black 
shadows and sharp contrasts. Of course,” he 
added, “ this is the general nature of all lunar 
landscapes — it would be modified to a greater 
or less degree by circumstances.” 

“ I had an idea it would be something like 
that,” came from Joe. 

Fred really seemed to be hurt at such levity, 
but he said nothing, and looked at Redfern as 
if waiting for him to continue. 

“ The sky would be black,” went on the 
latter, “ and the sun brighter than we ever 
see it on the earth. Some shadows would 
also be absolutely black, because all light is 
cut off ; others might be faintly illuminated 
by the reflection from some mountain wall.” 

“ And even the parts in sunlight would 
show a lot of differences,” said Joe. “ I ” 

“ Go on, Redfern,” said Fred, hastily. 

“ Oh, Joe’s all right. There would be dif- 
ferences, of course. The varying character of 


House-boat 


87 

the surfaces, some darker than others, would 
have an effect ; and the angle they presented 
to the sun must still further increase or lessen 
their brilliancy. All told, however, these 
things would hardly be sufficient to do more 
than slightly modify the general effect.” 

“ What’s the name of that crater ? ” asked 
Jack, several minutes later ; “ I mean the one 
with those funny streaks shooting off all 
around.” 

“ Copernicus.” 

“ Well,” remarked Jack, “ it certainly looks 
great. Keep away, Fred Winter ; I haven’t 
finished yet.” 

“ Scrap beginning already,” chuckled Joe. 
“ Bring Confuse-us ashore, and sic the dog 
on him, Jack.” 

“ Wonder how the moon ever got there ? ” 
put in Aleck Hunt, reflectively. 

“ Astronomers have various theories,” an- 
swered Redfern, with a smile. “ Some contend 
that it was thrown off from the earth ; while 
others think that it was once a part of the sun.” 

The telescope was next turned upon the 
planet Mars. Norman Redfern spoke quite 
like a professor addressing his class. 


88 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Mars is now about as near as it ever gets 
to be,” he said. “ Put it down at about 
thirty-five million miles, and you’ll be very 
nearly correct. The so-called canals were 
discovered by an Italian astronomer named 
Schiaparelli.” 

“ My, but you talk like a book,” said Joe, a 
little awed. 

“ I can’t see those canals,” remarked Aleck, 
with his eye to the tube. “ Doesn’t look like 
anything more than a little round dot.” 

“ Very likely not,” said Redfern, dryly. 
“ It requires a powerful telescope. At Flag- 
staff, Arizona, the astronomers have made 
many photographs of the planet, and on 
these the faint lines are distinguishable.” 

“ Mighty interesting,” murmured Jack. 
“ Canals, eh ? You mean somebody dug 
them ? ” 

Redfern smiled. “ Well, that’s what is 
claimed,” he said. “ But I’m bound to say 
not all the astronomers believe it, yet. I 
can get some books that tell all about it, if 
you like.” 

“Say, will you?” exclaimed Fred. “I’d 
like to know about that.” 


House-boat 


89 

Jupiter, with its four moons, the boys found 
better suited to the power of their telescope. 
The disc was large enough to show a faint 
dark line crossing it, while the satellites were 
strung out all on one side, like a row of tiny 
stars. 

Of course, Saturn came in for a share of 
their attention, and although its rings were 
visible as nothing more than an extremely 
small oval, they found it decidedly interest- 
ing. 

Owing to the unfavorable weather condi- 
tions, it took the boys a very long time to 
make their observations ; and when Bob 
Somers looked at his watch, he uttered an ex- 
clamation. 

“ Good gracious — nearly half-past ten ! ” he 
cried. 

“ Well, we’ve passed a fine, profitable even- 
ing,” declared Fred, “ and owe Redfern a vote 
of thanks.” 

“ You bet,” chimed in Jack. 

The young man smiled. 

“ I have enjoyed it, too,” he said. “ Now, 
I must be going ; but I’d be mighty glad if 
you would pay me a visit before you leave. 


9 ° 


The Rambler Club’s 


I live close by. It isn’t much of a place — to 
be plain, just a wooden shack.” 

“ Look out for us to-morrow morning,” said 
Jack, promptly. 

After receiving instructions where to find 
him, the boys rowed back to the house-boat, 
the clanking oars sounding strangely distinct. 

The novelty of their situation at first pre- 
vented several from sleeping ; but about mid- 
night slumber finally overtook them all, and 
thus ended their first day on the Hudson. 


CHAPTER V 


AN EXPLORING TRIP 

After breakfast next morning the “ Gray 
Gull ” was run closer inshore. A favorable 
spot for anchorage was found, doing away 
with the necessity for using the dory. Each 
boy was able to leap across to a jutting point. 
Then, jolly and enthusiastic, they began to 
walk along the shore. 

Often they stopped to gaze upward at the 
gigantic cliffs, or to admire the masses of rich 
green vegetation or broad expanse of river, now 
a greenish-gray, for the sun was hidden. 

Around a bend they saw a cabin built at 
the base of the cliff. 

“ That must be it,” said Bob. 

“ Hooray ! ” cried Tom. “ Say, fellows, I 
like that chap, Redfern.” 

“ But what a funny idea, living out here, 
all alone,” commented Fred. 

“ Oh, I don't know. I was always going to 
91 


92 


The Rambler Club’s 


do something of the kind, myself,” said Joe, 
and the others laughed in such a lively fash- 
ion that it brought the occupant of the cabin 
to the door. 

“ Welcome, boys,” he said, with a smile. 
“ Come in and make yourselves at home.” 

So the boys trooped in, took seats on any- 
thing they could find, and looked about with 
interest. 

In one corner a bunk was fastened against 
the wall. In another, a shelf contained sev- 
eral books, which Dave and Fred immediately 
spied and began to examine. A rude table 
and several equally rude stools completed the 
furnishings, save for a charcoal drawing which 
hung between the windows. 

“ That’s bully,” said Tom, admiringly. 
“ Didn’t know anybody but Dave Brandon 
could draw so well.” 

“ I’m acquainted with the artist,” explained 
Norman Redfern. “ He and his wife are 
spending the summer in a bungalow not far 
from here.” 

“ Well, he’s a dandy, that’s sure,” said Tom. 

“ Oh, look at these frivolous books,” laughed 
Joe Preston, a moment later. “ You’ll never 


House-boat 


93 


get Fred Winter away from ’em. Listen ! 
Here’s Plutarch’s 1 Lives,’ Motley’s 1 Rise and 
Fall of the Dutch Republic,’ Gibbons’ ‘ History 
of Rome,’ and books on Latin and Greek.” 

“ The kind of literature a tutor ought to 
read, I suppose,” said Norman, with a faint 
smile. 

“ Great Scott, have you tooted ? ” asked Joe. 
“ Doin’ it now?” 

An uncomfortable expression flitted across 
the other’s face. He hesitated for a moment, 
then, seeing the frank, interested looks on his 
visitors’ faces, replied, “ No, not just at pres- 
ent — that is — oh, well, I suppose I might as 

well tell you ” then, as if half regretting 

his words, he stopped short. 

But Joe Preston’s curiosity was aroused. 
Joe hated mysteries, or, rather, always liked to 
have them explained at once. So he said 
“ Well ? ” in such a tone that there was no 
getting out of it. 

“ I’ll have to give you a short history of my 
life,” began Redfern, dryly. “ Being an or- 
phan, I had lived most of the time with an 
uncle, near Albany. He hadn’t much money, 
but he was of the right sort, and saw to it 


94 


The Rambler Club’s 


that my education was attended to. I was 
sent to a large academy near the city. There 
was another school not far away, and the 
rivalry between the two institutions was 
pretty fierce at times — mostly good-natured, 
of course. But that hasn’t anything to do 
with my story. After I graduated Uncle Ben 
passed away, and the little money he left, 
divided among numerous relatives, was soon 
gone, and yours truly was thrown on his own 
resources. 

“ Well, through the influence of a friend, I 
got a position as tutor to the ward of a rich 
man who lives at Nyack. This young chap 
is very wealthy in his own right, or will be 
when he reaches the age of twenty-one. He 
has everything that a boy could wish for, 
and ” 

“ Oh, of course nobody could get along with 
a chap like that,” sniffed Joe. “ Why, in our 
school ” 

But Norman smiled. 

“ George Clayton is a most unmillionaire 
boy, if I may use the expression,” he said. 
“ He always longed to be like others, in fact, 
wanted to rough it a bit. George is a bright, 


House-boat 


95 

manly chap. Why, he’d be wild to go on a 
trip like yours.” 

“ Glad to hear it,” observed Joe. “ Some 
boys wouldn’t have the nerve to brave the 
dangers of a wide stream like the Hudson.” 

“We got along splendidly together,” con- 
tinued Redfern, “and but for an unfortunate 
occurrence I should be his tutor still.” Nor- 
man stared reflectively at the floor for a mo- 
ment ; the light seemed to fade from his eyes, 
and, with a half sigh, he added, “ But I was 
entirely blameless, and — and — well, his guard- 
ian did not view the matter in that light — 
and — so he fired me.” 

“ Humph ! And why didn’t this George 
What’s-his-Name stand up for you?” de- 
manded Jack, indignantly. 

“ He did. But his guardian is one of those 
men who, when they get an idea, stick to it. 
Unfortunately, I had no proof of my — my — I 
mean,” he added hastily, “ of my being in the 
right. So that is the way my position as a 
tutor slipped away from me last spring.” 

“ Well, by George — no joke intended ” — 
cried Bob, energetically — “ I’d never let a 
thing like that drop ; you bet I wouldn’t, eh, 


The Rambler Club’s 


96 

fellows ? I’d follow it up till I showed this 
gentleman where he stood.” 

“ Wish I had a bit more of that spirit in 
me,” sighed Norman, “ but the fact is, I’m 
not much of a fighter,” he added, with a faint 
smile. “ The odds were against me, and I got 
discouraged.” 

“ And what are you doing here ? ” asked 
Joe, bluntly. 

“ Well, one of my old school chums once 
spent a summer in this old shack. He told 
me about it — no rent to pay, you know. I’m 
going to look for a job in New York pretty 
soon, and hope to make out until then.” 

“ Don’t you feel awful lonely ? ” 

“ My books are company, and I get a good 
opportunity to study and write.” 

“ Say,” remarked Jack,“ we’ll pass right by 
this George Clayton’s town, won’t we ? ” 

“ Surest thing I know of,” answered Joe. 

“ Then why not join our crowd, Redfern ? ” 
said Jack, in his usual free and easy manner, 
“ and go and see Mr. Guardian again, eh, fel- 
lows?” 

He glanced inquiringly toward his compan- 
ions. 


House-boat 


97 


“ Just the scheme/’ agreed Bob, warmly. 

“ Very kind of you chaps to make such an 
offer,” said Norman, hesitatingly, “ but ” 

“ Don’t let there be any ‘ buts ’ about it,” 
urged Jack. “ Unless you fight the thing, 
Mr. Guardian will always say you are in the 
wrong. That’s plain, eh, Bob? It might do 
you a whole lot of harm.” 

“ Of course it might,” chimed in Tom. 

“ I’m glad you have confidence in me,” 
said Norman, pleased at their earnestness, 
“ and I can assure you it is not misplaced. 
That affair broke me all up.” 

“ When did you see the guardian chap 
last?” inquired Joe, with a directness that al- 
most made his chums smile. 

“ Several months ago.” 

“ Plenty of time for him to have changed 
his opinion. Was the millionaire boy mixed 
up in the row ? ” asked Dave. 

“ No, it did not concern him in the least.” 

“ Honest — don’t you think you gave up a 
bit too soon, though?” said Jack. “ Come 
along with us as far as Nyack, tackle Mr. 
Guardian again, and our crowd will have a 
chance to meet the millionaire boy. I’m aw- 


98 The Rambler Club’s 

fully curious to see what kind of a chap he is. 
It will kind o’ give variety to the trip. What 
do you say ?” 

“ I don’t know how I can resist such an in- 
vitation/’ laughed Norman, his face lighting 
up with pleasure. “ You have given me hope, 
boys. I guess you are right — I got discour- 
aged too soon. I hate quarrels, and Colonel 
Ellison is a hard man to deal with ; but it 
won’t do any harm to see him again.” 

Bob Somers, who had taken a great fancy 
to the quiet, studious-looking young fellow, 
was delighted. 

“ That’s the idea,” he cried, “ eh, fellows? ” 
and a chorus of assenting voices came from 
his chums. 

“ And now that it’s all settled,” remarked 
Fred, as he slowly turned the pages of a his- 
tory, “ would you mind taking a couple of 
these books along? This is a dandy — tells 
all about Peter the Great ; and there’s another 
about Mars, by a chap named Lowell, 
and ” 

But Joe interrupted him with a loud burst 
of laughter, whereupon Fred told him just 
what he thought of such conduct, and of the 


House-boat 


99 


dreadful risk he ran of growing up to be a 
perfect ignoramus, all of which Joe listened 
to with many smiles and chuckles. 

After sitting around for a quarter of an 
hour, Jack proposed climbing the Palisades, 
and this being agreeable to all, the five soon 
started out. 

Viewed at close range, the cliffs loomed up 
grim and gigantic, the fringe of trees lining 
the top appearing like a row of bushes. The 
base of the Palisades is almost everywhere 
broken into a slope formed by the debris that 
has fallen from the cliffs, and in places this 
extends upward for hundreds of feet, reaching 
to the very summit. Norman Redfern de- 
clared that he would soon pilot them to a place 
where the climb to the top would be easy. 

The slope along which they made their way 
was thickly wooded in parts, and the rich 
green foliage and cool, refreshing shadows 
pierced by the shafts of sunlight presented a 
delightful picture. Close by was the ruin of 
a mill. A few crumbling walls and a rusted 
fly-wheel alone remained to tell of its exist- 
ence. A melancholy stillness seemed to hover 
about it, as if to draw a contrast between its 


loo 


The Rambler Club’s 


present condition and that of its busy past, 
and the boys, scrambling over the cracked and 
broken walls, speculated with interest as to 
the causes which had brought about so won- 
derful a change. 

A startled hare leaped quickly over a pile 
of bricks and was soon lost to view amidst the 
underbrush. 

“ If we only had a pop gun, we could have 
popped him,” said Jack. 

Wandering in and out, now close to the 
river, then near the cliffs, Redfern finally 
pointed out a path which zigzagged its way 
upward. But the active lads were not long 
content with this easy way of climbing and 
took advantage of any short cut that pre- 
sented itself. Some of these were very steep, 
and often they slipped and slid and only saved 
themselves by clutching tightly to the tangled 
grasses and bushes. Showers of stones and 
earth occasionally rattled downward, and Joe 
distinguished himself by falling flat in a deep 
cut formed by the rains and still wet and soggy. 

Every foot of the climb so far was through 
a charming little wood, composed mainly of 
small trees, and all aglow with sunlight. 


House-boat 


101 


Panting from their exertions, they were 
often compelled to rest. 

“ Look ! ” exclaimed Jack, presently, point- 
ing downward. 

There, far below them, was the “ Gray Gull.” 
The breeze had straightened out the bunting 
and it fluttered gracefully at the end of the 
pole. It was their boat — their home for 
the time being, and all surveyed it with a 
sense of pride and pleasure. 

The further they climbed, the more often 
they had to wait for Norman. His strength 
was not equal to theirs, and, at length, he was 
obliged to follow the beaten trail. All the 
boys were surprised at the length of the 
climb, for they were at one of the highest 
parts of the Palisades. 

But the top was finally reached, and, with 
aching limbs and panting breath, they threw 
themselves amidst some tall grasses to rest. 

“ What a dandy view ! ” cried Jack, en- 
thusiastically. 

From the heights a magnificent panorama 
opened out before them. The great Hudson 
reflected the gray, somber clouds, and the 
hills beyond melted into the haze of distance. 


102 


The Rambler Club’s 


It was all vast and impressive. The sound of 
a motor boat, a mere speck, four hundred feet 
below them, reached their ears with singular 
clearness. 

“ You now have a good view of one of 
the most famous rivers in the world,” said 
Norman. 

For a long time they gazed, and it is safe 
to say that there was not much that escaped 
their attention. 

Finally Jack arose. 

“ Come ahead, fellows,” he said. “ We'll 
have to explore a bit.” 

Through patches of woods and across rocky 
ledges they made their way, sometimes keep- 
ing close to the edge of the cliff and stopping 
to look down the precipice. How far below 
it seemed to the narrow strip of beach ! As 
they looked, a solitary bird winged its way 
across, its harsh cries gradually growing 
fainter and fainter in the distance. 

Norman Redfern's nerves were not equal to 
the task imposed by a near approach to the 
brink. He admired the courage of the active 
lads, though cautioning them to be careful. 
But danger only lent spice to the situation. 


House-boat 


103 


“ Don’t worry about us,” said Jack. “ It’s 
easy to see the dangerous places ; and we 
know that the shortest route down isn’t the 
best.” 

After a time, the party found their progress 
along the edge of the cliff barred by a wide, 
deep gully extending inward. The slopes 
were broken and irregular, full of rocky 
ledges, tangled masses of vegetation and trees. 
A small stream of water could be seen trick- 
ling down the center. 

“ Here’s where we have a chance to do 
some tall climbing,” said Aleck Hunt. “ Go- 
ing to be a rough job, too.” 

“ Better let it be a case of walking around,” 
advised Norman Redfern. 

“ Looks as if it would mean a quarter of a 
mile tramp,” objected Joe Preston. “ If I see 
an easy place, I’m going to beat all hands to 
the top of the cliff on the other side.” 

“ All right,” laughed Jack. “ If I knew 
how to climb and be on the level at the same 
time, I’d accept your challenge. Guess I’ll 
walk around.” 

This apparently settled the matter, and all 
five started off. 


104 The Rambler Club’s 

Sometimes, with loud yells, the boys chased 
bright-colored butterflies — that is, all but Dave 
and Fred. Their interest was centered on the 
plants and flowers which grew so abundantly 
about them. 

Joe Preston, who had stopped several times 
at the brink of the gully, finally went on 
ahead. 

“ Hello ! ” cried Bob, presently. “ What in 
the dickens has become of Joe? ” 

“ Gee Whitaker, where in the world did he 
get to ? ” chimed in Aleck. 

“ I saw him standing by that rock,” said 
Redfern. “ It was only a moment ago.” 

Around them was an open stretch, with 
nothing to hide the view, but Joe Preston was 
nowhere in sight. 


CHAPTER VI 


JOE IN TROUBLE 

“ That’s the strangest thing I ever heard 
of,” cried Jack, excitedly. “ Don’t believe Joe 
would have given us the slip.” 

They walked to the edge of the gully and 
looked up and down. 

“ Hello, Joe, whoop la, hi, hi ! ” 

But no response followed the sound of his 
voice. 

“ Jiminy, I don’t understand that! ” gasped 
Aleck. 

“ What can have become of him ? ” said 
Norman, apprehensively, and he raised his 
voice with the others in a series of tremendous 
shouts. 

Still there was no reponse. 

“ Come on, fellows,” shouted Bob. “ Sure 
as guns, something must have happened.” 

He dashed ahead, with the others following 
closely at his heels, all a prey to the most 
dreadful forebodings. 

105 


106 The Rambler Club’s 

Far ahead were two figures, but no others 
were within range of their vision. 

Panting and excited, Jack Lyons and Bob 
Somers kept well in the lead, and so the mad 
race was continued, until they had nearly 
reached the spot where Joe was last seen. 

Suddenly Bob, who was plunging through 
a mass of tangled weeds and grasses, gave a 
yell which sent a thrill of terror through his 
companions’ hearts. They saw him fall for- 
ward and wildly clutch a straggling bush. 

“ Look out ! ” he gasped. “ Look out ! ” 

The warning cry came just in time. 
Stretching straight across their path was a 
gaping, V-shaped cleft almost hidden from 
view by vegetation. 

With faces drawn and pale, they gathered 
at the edge and looked below. Bob Somers, 
scarcely realizing how he had managed to 
save himself, was still the foremost. 

A thrill of horror shot through them. 
There, caught on a projecting ledge about 
fifteen feet below, lay the motionless form of 
Joe Preston, and still below him was a terri- 
fying, almost vertical drop to the deepest por- 
tion of the ravine. 


House-boat 


107 


“ Great Scott ! ” gasped Bob. Then : “ Joe, 
Joe!” he called. “Joe! Speak — are you 
badly hurt ? ” 

A moment of dreadful suspense followed. 

Joe slowly stirred and passed his hand 
across his forehead. 

“ Joe, look out — don’t move an inch ! ” 

Bob spoke with thrilling intensity, and Joe 
Preston’s awakening faculties began to grasp 
the peril of his situation. He huddled close 
to the smooth, rocky wall and shut his eyes 
to hide the depths below. 

“ Are you hurt, Joe?” inquired Norman 
Redfern, breathlessly. 

“ Must have hit my head an awful crack,” 
answered the boy, weakly. “ I was chasing 
a butterfly, and all of a sudden felt myself 
going down — it was awful.” 

“ No bones broken, I hope ? ” 

“ I don’t think so, but I’ve got a terrible 
pain in my head.” 

“ You had a mighty close call, Joe. But 
for that ledge ” 

Norman glanced gravely at his companions, 
and they nodded. 

“ Whew ! Makes me shiver to think of it,” 


108 The Rambler Club’s 

breathed Bob, with a shrug of his broad 
shoulders. 

Then they began to discuss the means of 
bringing Joe to the top. 

“ If we only had a rope,” sighed Aleck 
Hunt. 

“ But we haven’t,” said Jack, “ and there’s 
no use talking about it.” 

“ Then what can we do ? ” 

“ Form a human chain. Our crowd is big 
enough. Beside, those two men coming along 
will most likely give us a hand. Feeling 
better, Joe ? ” 

“ Yes ! But, for goodness’ sake, fellows, 
hurry up. This ledge seems awfully small, 
and my head is dizzy.” 

“ Courage, Joe, old boy, we’ll have you up 
in a jiffy.” 

By this time the two men were close at 
hand, and divining that something was amiss, 
hurried forward. One was rather tall, with 
sandy hair and a pointed beard, while the 
other, shorter and not quite so stout, had in- 
tensely black hair and mustache. 

“ Hello, what’s this?” exclaimed the for- 
mer. Then, as his eyes rested on the danger- 


House-boat 


109 

ous cleft and Joe Preston on the ledge, he 
gave a low whistle of astonishment. 

“ H’m, your friend’s in trouble, sure enough. 
How did it happen ? ” 

Jack briefly explained. 

“ Certainly we’ll help you— no doubt about 
that. But can you stand it down there for 
about a second, my boy ? ” 

He hastily unstrung a small camera, sighted 
it, a click sounded, and Joe had been snapped. 

“ Ought to make a remarkable picture,” 
observed the man. “ Now to work.” 

A difficult and dangerous task was before 
the boys, but none faltered. Bob’s lips were 
drawn tightly together. 

“ I’ll go first,” he announced, briefly. “ My 
muscles are pretty strong. Ready ! Grab 
my legs, Jack, and hold on tight.” 

Without another word, Bob threw himself 
flat and worked his way slowly over to the 
edge. Jack hung to him with all his 
strength, and he, in turn, was held tightly 
by another. And thus the dangling human 
chain hung downward, and Bob’s waving 
arms approached the helpless prisoner. 

Three feet — two feet — one foot — for an in- 


no 


The Rambler Club’s 


stant Bob closed his eyes. When he opened 
them again, Joe Preston was within reach. 

“ Quick, Joe,” he gasped. “ Quick ! ” 

But as Joe slowly raised himself to an up- 
right position, he found that his strength was 
practically gone. 

“ I could never hold on, Bob,” he said, 
“ never ! ” 

“ Don’t have to. Give me your wrists.” 

Bob Somers’ sinewy hands closed around 
them with a grip that could not fail. 

“ Pull up, fellows,” he yelled. 

The tug began. Their knowledge of the 
danger seemed to give them double strength. 
Straining every muscle, never daring to pause 
for an instant, the boys and men worked 
silently, while white-faced Joe Preston swung 
over the chasm. 

Jack Lyons felt himself being dragged to 
safety. His face was purple ; his joints seemed 
to fairly crack, but, with a determination that 
increased as the moments slipped by, he held 
on. 

How long it seemed ! But finally the 
burden was taken from him by willing 
hands, and exhausted Jack Lyons lay back 


House-boat 1 1 1 

on the turf. Then Bob Somers was drawn 
slowly over the edge, and, at length, other 
hands seized Joe Preston’s wrists. One final 
tug, and the boy was safe. 

For several moments, not a word was 
spoken. Joy and an intense feeling of re- 
lief filled their hearts, making them forget 
aching bones and sore flesh. 

Then Joe spoke up. 

“ I’ll never forget this, fellows,” he said 
quietly, “ never ! ” 

“ And I guess none of the rest will, either,” 
observed one of the strangers, dryly. “ It 
was a narrow shave, my lad. How do you 
feel — hurt yourself much ? ” 

“ A bit bruised, and my head aches ; that’s 
all. That ledge seems to have been put there 
for my especial benefit, eh, Jack?” and Joe 
smiled rather weakly. 

The boys thanked the strangers heartily 
for their assistance. Norman Redfern was 
interested when he learned that the two were 
on their way to visit his artist friend. 

“ Yes, we three,” the man indicated his 
dark-haired companion, “ knew each other 
in Paris. I’m from the South, spending a 


1 12 


The Rambler Club’s 


month or two here, and want to renew old 
friendships.” 

“ You are artists, then ? ” inquired Redfern. 

The others nodded. 

“ But sometimes I amuse myself with the 
camera,” said one. 

“ Say — you ought to take one of our house- 
boat,” put in Joe, eagerly. “ That will make 
up for the picture you got of me.” 

“ House-boat ? ” 

Then explanations followed, and before 
they parted the strangers promised to visit 
the “ Gray Gull ” that afternoon. 

Joe Preston had been pretty badly shaken 
up, and, as his head still ached, it was decided 
to return. 

“ Makes me feel like a number one dunce, 
too,” he remarked, sheepishly. “ Guess maybe 
I deserved it for chasing butterflies. Isn’t 
that so, Redfern ? ” 

“ Well, hardly,” responded the ex-tutor. 
“ I was glad to note that none of you made 
any effort to wantonly hurt the little crea- 
tures. That I would consider indefensible ; 
though some boys are inclined to be thought- 
less about such matters.” 


House-boat 


1 ! 3 

“ Never saw such a trap in my life,” said 
Bob. “ Who would ever expect to find such 
a place, all overgrown with weeds ? ” 

“ Oh, you fellows can’t excuse yourselves 
that way,” said Fred Winter, with a rather 
forced laugh. “ If the crowd stood in need 
of a frightful scare we got it, all right.” 

“ You seem to be taking the lesson to 
heart,” said Norman Redfern. “ That is the 
best course. I never was more thankful in 
my life. If this place had been like one I 
know of a few miles from here, nothing could 
have saved you, Joe.” 

“ What is it like ? ” faltered the boy. 

“ A narrow, half-hidden cleft running in 
from the face of the Palisades. There is a 
clear drop of several hundred feet.” 

The boys felt a shiver run through them. 

“ That shows how well it is to be careful,” 
added Redfern. 

By easy stages they covered the distance 
back to the zigzag road ; and upon reaching 
Redfern’s shack Joe was able to assure them 
all that he felt much better. 

“ Ready to leave with us to-morrow morn- 
ing, eh, Norman ? ” inquired Jack, presently. 


ii4 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ But won’t it crowd you too much ? ” 

“ Not at all ; there’s room for two or three 
more — six the diameter of Tom.” 

“ Yes ; I have no very particular engage- 
ments to keep me. I’ll be glad of a change — 
was getting kind of rusty.” 

“ I declare, I most forgot poor young Con- 
fuse-us,” remarked Jack. “ He must be a bit 
hungry by this time. Who wants to go over 
to the boat? ” 

“ Guess I will,” answered Fred, closing the 
book. 

“ I’m with you,” put in Joe. 

Then the others decided to join. 

So off they started, in lively spirits again, 
for Joe declared that he now felt no worse 
than if he had just come out of an ordinary 
football scrimmage. 

“ Fellows,” said Aleck, suddenly, “I never 
finished that story I was going to tell you. 
Listen — it’s a bully one.” 

“ Get it off your mind — do,” snickered Joe. 

“ I’m going to. Well, it’s about Joe 
Archer, who played short-stop on our team. 
He was down on Battery Park the other day, 
when ” 


House-boat 


lb 

“ Thunderation ! ” broke in Bob, suddenly. 
“ Look at that, fellows ! ” 

“ What’s up? ” asked Joe. 

“ Don’t you see ” 

And Joe saw. Two figures were reclining 
in indolent ease on the deck of the house-boat, 
and the first glance showed the boys that they 
were unprepossessing specimens of humanity. 


r-> 


CHAPTER VII 


THE BATTLE FOR THE BOAT 

“ Tramps, as I live ! ” cried Jack, excitedly. 
“ Did you ever hear of such nerve ! ” 

“ The worst ever ! ” exclaimed Tom. “ We 
ought to rout them out of that pretty fast.” 

“ And we will, too,” said Bob. “ Come 
ahead, fellows,” and he broke into a run. 

“ Hold on,” said Fred, solemnly. “ Diplo- 
macy is a good word.” 

But the others did not seem to hear. 

As they crashed through the underbrush, 
then swooped pell-mell across an open space, 
the men arose, with ludicrous haste, and were 
about to leap ashore, when the larger laid 
a restraining hand upon his companion’s 
shoulder. 

“ Why, it’s nothing but a parcel of boys,” 
he said. “ Don’t disturb yourself, pal ; let’s 
continue our peaceful meal.” 

He laughed, and sank back against the side 
of the boat, and calmly surveyed the indignant 
116 


House-boat 


117 

boys, who arrived on the scene quite out of 
breath. 

They were both large men, ragged and 
unkempt in appearance — typical specimens 
of their kind ; although the one who had 
spoken wore a very mild expression for a 
tramp. 

44 I say,” began Jack, impetuously, “ can’t 
you chaps find some other place to eat your 
grub? — and — by Jingo, I’ll bet it’s our grub, 
too.” 

He stared at the open window, then at 
several familiar pots and pans which rested 
beside the grinning tramps. 

44 Well, I like that. I— I ” 

44 We thought you would. That’s why we 
done it, pal,” said number one, eating a large 
slice of broiled ham, with evident relish. 
44 Are you the head duffer, might I ask — but 
surely you ain’t running this here craft your- 
selves ? ” 

44 You’d better get out! ” cried Jack, fiercely, 
despite the efforts of Fred Winter to resort to 
diplomatic measures. 

“ Nuttin’ annoys me pal s’much as when 
he’s disturbed at eatin’, eh, Duke?” and, as 


n8 The Rambler Club’s 

number one nodded and helped himself to 
another supply, the speaker waved his arm 
threateningly. 

“ Scat, scatter, an’ fade away ; likewise, de- 
part,” he said. “ Drift, skip and begone. 
What d’ye think, Duke, of a lot of young- 
sters like them bein’ so fur away from their 
own little firesides ? ” 

“ 1 think,” remarked the other, “ that briled 
ham and potatoes, as a staple article of food, 
can’t be beat. Some gingerbread, Count ; and 
if you don’t mind, I’ll top off with some 
crackers and cheese.” 

“ So be it, Duke. If you see anything you 
don’t want, ask for it. My good breeding 
won’t rub off — wilderness an’ parlor life, it’s 
all the same. Sardines ? Certainly, Duke ; 
but them mostly comes at the beginning of re- 
pasts. Tote away there, you on shore ; it ain’t 
perlite ter stare at people eatin’.” 

“ You needn’t think you’re so funny ! ” 
cried Jack Lyons, indignantly. “ I’ll have 
the constable after you quicker than a wink, 
if you don’t skip.” 

“ The dearest friend I have ; he’s cost me 
many a dollar. Don’t hurry yerself, Duke.” 


House-boat 119 

“ I say, my man,” said Fred Winter, in a 
soft voice, determined to show his chums the 
beneficial effects of diplomacy, “ come now, 
get out quietly, like good fellows. We don’t 
want any trouble, and won’t make any fuss 
about all that grub you — you — swiped.” 

“ Listen to birdie chirping. Methinks that 
butter in summer ain’t no softer than him, 
eh, Duke?” 

“ A dub,” said tramp number one, squint- 
ing at Fred Winter. “ His phiz shows it.” 

“ Needs a good beatin’ ter put some spunk 
in him,” added number two. 

Both howled with laughter, while Fred, 
much disgusted and red in the face, forgot, in 
the wave of indignation that swept through 
him, all about diplomacy. 

“ I’m only going to tell you fellows once 
more,” warned Jack. “ Better get out, or 
you’ll meet your dearest friend arm to arm.” 

“Well, Duke, did yez hear that? There’s 
a real live humorist fur ye — 4 Arm ter arm.’ 
More gingerbread? Certainly, Duke. Floatin’ 
groceries in their wilderness is a wrinkle of 
the twentieth century wot don’t harm no 


one. 


120 


The Rambler Club’s 


The boys looked up and down the river and 
at the motor boats passing. But no one was 
in sight on the shore and the boats were too 
far out. There seemed to be no help at hand 
and, in vexation and disgust, they withdrew 
to talk the matter over. 

“ We’ll have to get those fellows off in a 
hurry,” said Bob, determinedly. 

“ What in thunder can we do ? ” asked 
Jack. 

“ Go right on board, and pitch into them,” 
suggested Joe, doubling his fists and making 
about four savage passes in the air. “ Fire 
’em off, bag and baggage.” 

But Fred hastily shook his head. 

“ No, no ! ” he demurred. “ Besides, they’re 
much too hefty. Maybe Redfern could help 
us.” 

“ I’m afraid not,” mused Jack. “ He’s a 
jolly nice chap — but doesn’t look quite old 
enough to scare ’em.” 

“ We mustn’t allow ourselves to get ex- 
cited,” drawled Dave. 

“ But those fellows can’t be allowed to stay 
on the ‘ Gray Gull ’ all afternoon,” protested 
Joe. “ I’m beginning to boil over. I’ll bet 


House-boat 


121 


they get away with most of our grub, too. 
And who knows but what they may have as- 
sassinated poor Confuse-us.” 

“What? You don’t think that — that— 
they ” began Fred, aghast. 

“Not on purpose, perhaps. But if they 
stepped on him, in some dark corner — well, 
Confuse-us hasn’t a constitution which could 
stand that.” 

“ Well, it certainly makes us look like a 
lot of softies,” declared Joe, walking slowly 
toward the water’s edge. “ Look at the grin- 
ning chump waving his hand. Hello — this 
is good stuff.” 

Joe stooped over, and gathered up a hand- 
ful of mud, and, almost before his com- 
panions could divine his intentions, the boy’s 
arm swung around and a nice, compact mud- 
ball was spinning swiftly through the air. 

The distance was not very great, and the 
throw unfortunately successful. 

The “ Count,” with his back turned, was 
just on the point of arising, when the mis- 
sile thudded against him. Being partly off* 
his balance and taken entirely by surprise, 
he gave a yell, and finding himself going for- 


122 


The Rambler Club’s 

ward, miscalculated the amount of energy 
necessary to regain his former position. 

The result was startling. He could not 
save himself, and, with surprising suddenness, 
lurched over the side of the boat. 

A great splash went up, and the astounded 
“ Duke ” received a generous shower bath. 

“ Great Caesar ! ” gasped Jack. 

“ Thunderation ! ” cried the author of the 
mischief, almost as much astonished as the 
unfortunate “ Count.” 

The latter completely disappeared for an 
instant, and when his bushy head came in 
sight above the surface, gone was the humor- 
ous twinkle in his eye, gone was the smile 
which had curved his lips. 

“ Gee whiz, this is no place for us,” mur- 
mured Joe. “ He looks peevish — perhaps he 
dislikes water.” 

“ It’s had a frightful effect on him, any- 
how,” laughed Dave. 

“ Whew ! ” sputtered the “ Count.” “ I’ve 
swallowed a gallon of the saltest water that 
man ever tasted. Who throw’d it, Bobby ? ” 

“ That little fat one.” 

u Ketch ’im, then ! ” roared the “ Count,” 


House-boat 


12 3 


wading toward the bank with an energy 
that indicated trouble ahead. “ Quick now, 
Bobby. Jist let me git a hold of ’im. Quick ! 
He’s goin’ ter rue the day he left his own 
little fireside.” 

And the “ Duke,” heeding the lusty voice 
of his companion, leaped ashore and made di- 
rectly toward the group. 

But they resolutely held their ground. 

Jack Lyons’ eyes began to flash. The 
fellows who had played against him at foot- 
ball knew the look that was in his eyes now. 

“ Keep back, ‘ Duke,’ ” he said, quietly, “ or 
you’ll get mixed up in a good deal of a row.” 

“ Yes, you’d better ! ” said Bob Somers, 
quietly, and, as the tramp showed no inten- 
tion of heeding this well-meant advice, seven 
pairs of hands reached down, for even Fred 
was aroused, and seven mud-balls were has- 
tily formed. 

Then Jack spoke up again : 

“ Did you hear ? ” 

“ I hear’d,” snarled the “ Duke.” “ We ain’t 
a-goin’ to do a thing to you. Wait till ” 

“ One — two — three ! ” Jack’s voice inter- 
rupted. 


124 


The Rambler Club’s 


The “ Duke/' urged by his companion, who 
had just scrambled ashore, broke into a run. 

Then Jack nodded to his chums. 

“ Let him have it,” he said, still quietly. 

Seven arms drew back, and seven missiles 
shot through the air. 

The tramp let out a yell and stopped short, 
for most of the mud-balls had landed 
squarely. Then, furious with rage, he made 
a headlong dash toward them. 

But again the arms swung around with per- 
fect precision. 

Swish, splash— the mud was just the proper 
consistency for mud-balls. It splattered all 
over the unfortunate tramp number one, and 
stung him until he could no longer face the 
bombardment. 

Unmindful of the yells and fierce com- 
mands of number two, he ignominiously 
turned his back and fled before the storm. 

The “ Count,” a sadty bedraggled and drip- 
ping object, witnessed the rout with uncon- 
cealed feelings of disgust. Slowly he walked 
to where his companion had halted. The 
boys were then treated to a volley of violent 
threats. 


House-boat 


125 


All the ugliness in the natures of the men 
was aroused, and, determining upon revenge, 
they picked up whatever missiles lay within 
reach and began a fierce onslaught. 

Sticks, stones and lumps of hard earth 
whizzed and rattled around the boys. 

Before such a dangerous hail, the lads were 
compelled to retreat. Joe uttered a yell, and 
began limping around on one foot ; Fred 
Winter dropped his glasses. 

The tramps, with shouts of triumph, con- 
tinued to lumber forward, promising the boys 
that when they had finished with them their 
house-boat would be wrecked. 

And just then, when things looked a bit 
discouraging, the sound of hurrying feet came 
to their ears. Three men dashed forward, 
and the boys instantly recognized two of them 
as the artists whom they had met on the top 
of the Palisades. 

The man with the sandy beard was well in 
advance, and had his camera pointed. 

Click ! — the scene of battle was snapped. 

The “ Count ” and “ Duke ” turned abruptly 
at the sight and began to flee. 

Perhaps neither had ever before sprinted in 


126 


The Rambler Club’s 


a livelier fashion, and in a moment their 
forms were lost to view behind the interven- 
ing trees. 

“ Gee whiz ! They ought to enter for the 
next marathon,” gasped Jack. “ Mighty 
lucky you happened along.” 

“ Well, boys, you’re having what might be 
styled a fierce day. We seem to have fright- 
ened those tramps pretty badly ; perhaps 
they thought this camera was a new sort of a 
blunderbuss.” 

“ Big scrap ? ” inquired the dark-haired 
artist. 

“ Yes, sir ; you see it was this way,” and 
Jack soon acquainted their rescuers with all 
the facts. 

“ I declare,” remarked the sandy-bearded 
artist, with a smile, “ if I stick by you boys a 
little longer, I’ll get some remarkable snap- 
shots. By the way, this is the artist friend I 
was telling you about.” 

The boys nodded, and surveyed Norman 
Bedfern’s friend with interest. He was a 
clear-cut, smooth-faced and solidly built 
young fellow of about twenty-five. 

Anxious to see if any damage had been 


House-boat 


12 7 


done, the boys lost no time in boarding the 
“ Gray Gull.” Confuse-us greeted them with 
wagging tail and plaintive cries, but his con- 
stitution did not seem to have suffered. 

“ They’ve eaten about four days’ grub ; 
that’s what they’ve done,” remarked Jack, 
indignantly. 

“ Lucky they didn’t take your painting 
along, Jack,” said Joe. 

But Jack’s suspicious glances rested on a 
guileless, innocent face. 

Fred presently slipped off, and they saw 
him hovering like a shadow around the spot 
where he had lost his glasses. He returned 
shortly, bearing them in triumph. 

The visitors were much interested in the 
house-boat. Redfern soon after joined them 
and, of course, heard all about the latest ad- 
venture. 

They passed a jolly afternoon. The artists 
talked entertainingly of their experiences 
abroad ; about roughing-it trips through 
France, Switzerland and Italy ; of climbing 
Vesuvius and sleeping on the cliffs at Capri ; 
of ancient Pompeii, and the historic ruins in 
Rome. 


128 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Dandy chaps,” remarked Jack, when they 
had gone. 

“ Aren’t they, just?” said Tom. “ Did us 
a good turn, too.” 

“ Awful easy life, being an artist,” quoth 
Aleck. “ All they have to do is to sit down 
and paint pictures; then people come along 
and say, 1 That’s bully — swell — out of sight,’ 
eh, Jack?” 

“ Some of ’em starve in garrets, though ; 
I’ve read about it.” 

“ It’s because they’re not good artists, then,” 
said Aleck, with an air of superior wisdom. 

“ Now, you chaps,” remarked Jack, “ I 
move that we get out in the stream a bit. 
Those tramps may take it into their heads to 
come back and throw a few rocks.” 

“ That’s right,” agreed Joe. “ Up anchor, 
jolly tars.” 

The “ Gray Gull ” soon drew away from 
the shore and was brought to a stop at a safe 
distance. The weather was dull and gloomy, 
and the opposite hills were almost swallowed 
up in the heavy atmosphere. 

By and by Jack lighted the red and green 
lanterns, and, feeling secure and content, they 


House-boat 129 

retired within the cozy interior and had their 
supper in peace and comfort. 

Finally Aleck opened the door and stepped 
out upon the deck. 

“ Say, fellows ! ” he called, “ we’re up in 
the air.” 

“ You are, maybe,” grinned Joe. 

“ No — honest, the anchor must have pulled 
loose, and we’ve floated off. Makes me dizzy. 
Who knows but what we’re a mile high by 
this time?” 

“ Oh, come down,” laughed Dave. 

“ Well, look and see.” 

As the boys joined Aleck outside, each 
uttered an exclamation. 

“ If this fog were any thicker, it would be 
solid,” said Jack, solemnly. 


CHAPTER VIII 


A COLLISION 

It did seem indeed as though the house- 
boat were suspended in space. The lanterns 
threw a strange, weird light on the swirling 
mist which swept slowly by. The unseen 
water lapped and gurgled against the sides of 
the “ Gray Gull.” 

Far out, the long, hoarse blast of a fog- 
horn told of a passing boat groping its way 
along ; then came a response, fainter, like an 
echo from the distance. The damp air brought 
with it other sounds, too ; the sharp, imperious 
whistle of a tug nearer at hand, and the steady, 
rhythmic clanking of its machinery. 

A strange sensation as of drifting came 
over the boys, and but for the fact that Jack 
tested the anchor, all would have believed 
they were floating further out on the river. 

When Aleck Hunt appeared with a lantern, 
a chorus of oh’s and ah’s escaped their lips. 

130 


House-boat 


None had ever seen such a weird and start- 
ling effect before. 

“ Great Scott ! ” cried Jack. 

As Aleck slowly swung his lantern from 
side to side, a crowd of shadowy giants hov- 
ered menacingly above them. Each move- 
ment sent them springing about, to dance and 
flitter on the restless, eddying vapor. 

As arms uplifted, great images with giant 
bands waved threateningly, and then flashed 
downward, as if to pluck them up and dis- 
perse them through the whitish haze. 

Suddenly the grim shadows blended into 
one ; then, with startling rapidity, the swing- 
ing lantern threw fantastic blots and blurs 
and queer-shaped patches of light on the 
moving curtain. 

“ Oh, but it’s strange,” remarked Joe, in 
awesome tones. “ Wish we were a bit nearer 
the shore. Kind o’ ghostly, eh ? ” 

“ Creepy enough, I should say so.” 

“ Makes a fellow’s head dizzy.” 

“ Great Scott, that boat must be awfully 
near, — ’most on top of us.” 

The sharp, warning notes of its whistle, 
again sounding, seemed to burst forth from 


» 3 2 


The Rambler Club’s 


a point close at hand. The pounding of the 
engine, the labored exhaust all told of its 
approach, and seven figures, with a sudden 
flush of excitement, crowded to the edge of the 
deck, and vainly tried to pierce the gloom. 

“ Can’t see a thing,” muttered Aleck, 

“ Great Scott, look out ! ” 

A series of frantic yells suddenly went up 
from the occupants of the house-boat ; then 
followed another. 

Lights, like great eyes, struggled to show 
themselves, and, immediately after, the fright- 
ened boys saw a confused blur of shadowy 
masses forging its way toward them. The 
swish, as the sharp prow cut through the 
water, reached their ears clearly. 

There was no time for action ; their voices 
united in one long cry of alarm. 

But it was too late. 

A dark mass, cutting the vapor, loomed 
high up ; the eyes shaped themselves into 
lanterns. There was an instant of breathless 
suspense. 

Then the “ Gray Gull ” staggered and 
groaned, and seemed to fairly rise out of the 
water under the force of the impact. A series 


House-boat 


*33 

of terrific bumps, jolts and grinds carried 
terror to their hearts, while a hissing, boil- 
ing sheet of angry water rising between the 
two craft swept across the deck. 

For an instant, it seemed as if the “ Gray 
Gull ” had been struck a mortal blow. Wob- 
bling violently, she swung around with a 
creaking groan and tugged hard on the 
anchor chain. 

Confused blurs of light and dark, a grim, 
black hull, slipped by. Shouts rose, then 
grew fainter ; the lanterns became eyes again, 
and in another instant, all had vanished in 
the gray gloom of fog beyond. 

For a moment, not a sound escaped the 
boys’ lips. Clutching whatever support lay 
within reach, they steadied themselves. 

Sharp and clear came the clanging signals 
from the engine-room of the tug ; then the 
sound of machinery stopped and a loud voice 
hailed them. 

“ Hello, back there, are you all right? ” 

“ What do you think, Jack ? ” asked Fred, 
in a voice that trembled with excitement. 

The first shock of fear had passed ; Jack 
was calm and collected again. 


134 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Still right side up — she hit us a glancing 
blow, luckily.” Then, raising his voice, he 
yelled, “ All right, we don’t need any help. 
But you will, if you don’t keep a bit further 
out — you’ll break a chunk out of the Pali- 
sades ! ” 

A hoarse laugh followed ; the whistle 
sounded, and the tug was again in motion. 

“ What’s that — what’s that?” asked Joe, 
excitedly. 

He had been swinging his lantern close to 
the water’s edge, in an effort to find out the 
extent of the damage, and detected a small ob- 
ject floating slowly away. It had a strangely 
familiar look. 

“ By Jingo, Confuse-us overboard ! ” yelled 
Joe. 

He leaned far out, and grabbed the dog, 
which in another instant would have been 
beyond his reach. 

Confuse-us’ eyes were shut and Confuse-us’ 
tail was still. 

“ Poor little dub,” echoed Aleck, sorrowfully. 

“ Quick,” cried Bob. “ Bring him in ! ” 

Their own danger was forgotten on the 
instant. They gathered around, and set to 


House-boat 


*35 


work with all the energy and earnestness that 
such a desperate case required, and their 
efforts were presently rewarded. 

Confuse-us blinked his eyes, and, with re- 
turning consciousness, wagged his stubby tail ; 
and a loud, long cheer went up, which did a 
bit more to bring the pup around. 

“Now,” said Jack, with a shrug of his 
shoulders, “ we had better get nearer the 
shore. That was a pretty close shave.” 

“ Rather I ” said Tom. “Whew ! I thought 
we were going down, sure.” 

“ If that boat had struck us squarely,” 
added Dave, “ it would have been ” 

“ A case of swim,” put in Jack. “ Plenty 
of excitement for one day, eh ? ” 

“ A bit too much,” said Joe, with a vivid 
recollection of his own mishap. “ Don’t let 
Fred get hold of a book ; we might as well 
turn in.” 

And they did. 

Early next morning, Norman Redfern ap- 
peared, bringing with him a few articles 
which he especially valued. 

“ Up anchor — let ’er go ! ” said Dick, and 
the “ Gray Gull ” resumed her voyage. 


136 The Rambler Club’s 

The river and its surroundings seemed to 
grow more interesting as they progressed. 
The great excursion boats plying to New- 
burgh ; the Albany day line of steamers, and 
a host of other craft, from handsome private 
yachts and motor boats to lumbering schooners 
and clumsier barges from Haverstraw, loaded 
with bricks, all came in for a share of atten- 
tion. The telescope swept them from stem 
to stern and back again, and a running fire 
of comments and speculation often resulted. 

They, too, were regarded with interest, and 
occasionally, when sarcastic hails and laughter 
reached their ears, the boys yelled back re- 
plies with all the riotous energy that the 
incident warranted. 

The great wall of the Palisades, they found, 
came to an abrupt end, and some distance 
further along rose a thickly wooded hill, 
skirting the shore of the river for miles. On 
the eastern side Norman Redfern pointed out 
Irvington, the home of Washington Irving, and 
then Tarrytown and the historic Dobbs’ ferry. 

The river soon widened out into the Tappan 
Sea, and the opposite shore could be seen but 
faintly through a gray-blue haze. 


House-boat 


*37 


Saucy little waves reflected the clear blue 
overhead. The day promised to be hot, and 
white clouds piling up in the west began to 
assume an ominous appearance. 

“ Nyack the next stop, captain ? ” asked 
Joe. 

“ Right you are.” 

“ Then for the millionaire boy,” grinned 
Aleck. 

Norman Redfern became grave and thought- 
ful. No doubt his rather timid nature shrank 
from the interview which only the house-boat 
boys’ urging had induced him to seek. The 
disastrous end of his first engagement as a 
tutor, the subsequent loss of another post 
upon which he had set his heart and the dis- 
couraging search for a position, all served to 
increase his tendency to shrink from the hard 
knocks which the world sometimes deals out. 
Self-effacing, and with an almost over-de- 
veloped sense for the rights of others, the 
game of life was a much more serious matter 
to him than to one like the lively, courageous 
Rob Somers. 

Colonel Ellison, George Clayton’s guardian, 
had none of these traits. He was a large 


138 The Rambler Club’s 

man, with a big voice; aggressive, strictly 
honest, stubborn — one of that type who rises 
superior to any situation, and who has very 
little sense of the rights of others. 

So Norman's heart misgave him ; but his 
lively companions served to encourage and 
cheer him, and keep alive his reawakened 
determination to assert his rights. 

“ Jolly curious to meet the millionaire boy," 
remarked Jack. “ Hope he won't be too stuck 
up to notice us in this rig. We don’t look 
any too stylish, you know." 

“ He isn't that kind," said Norman. “ He 
is a fine lad ; but of course you must remember 
one thing." 

“ What’s that?" 

“ His surroundings and life of ease and 
luxury have formed certain characteristics 
which are only to be expected. Perhaps, if 
you didn’t know him well, he might be con- 
sidered a trifle overbearing — a bit set upon 
having his own way. But, in the main, his 
good traits more than counterbalance it." 

“ I’ll bet lie’s a silly chump, after all," Joe 
whispered to Bob, a moment later, as they 
stood on the deck. “ Norman’s an easy, good- 


House-boat 


*39 

natured chap, and would like ’most anybody. 
Gee whiz, but the river’s wide, eh ? ” 

“ It certainly is,” answered Jack. “ Looks 
more like a bay. Let’s have the tube, Joe. 
There’s a train. See it ? looks great through 
the glass.” 

“ So it does,” agreed Joe, taking his turn 
with the telescope ; “ and there’s a motor 
boat close inshore.” 

“ We’re coming to Nyack, boys,” said Red- 
fern, stepping out upon the deck. “ Getting 
along at racing speed, too — the tide is with 
us. In a few minutes you’ll see Colonel Elli- 
son’s house.” 

“ Dandy place to live, out here,” said Dave. 

“ Swell,” agreed Joe. “ A chap could have 
no end of fun.” 

The charming little town of Nyack was 
now in full view. Handsome residences ex- 
tended along the river for a considerable dis- 
tance and many fine trees were outlined 
sharply against the white cumulus clouds. 

Redfern presently touched Jack Lyons’ 
arm. 

“ That house with the big columns in front 
is Colonel Ellison’s home,” he said. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE MILLIONAIRE BOY 

“ And a mighty fine place, too,” said Jack. 

“ Looks like a museum,” added Fred. 

“ Aren’t the grounds magnificent?” went 
on Redfern. “ That long line of columns at 
the side of the house is a pergola ; then there 
are statues, and graveled walks, and beauti- 
ful flower beds.” 

“ Doesn't look like any of the other houses 
around,” observed Aleck Hunt. 

“ No ! The Colonel is an enthusiast on all 
things pertaining to ancient Greece, and built 
his house accordingly. Those of you who 
have seen pictures of the Parthenon at Athens 
will recognize the style.” 

“ Fine inside ? ” asked Fred. 

“ It is — more than fine. A bit beyond that 
wharf, Jack, is a good landing place; water's 
pretty deep, and you can get in close. I 
think I'll spruce up, now, and prepare for the 
Colonel.” 


140 


House-boat 


141 


The “ Gray Gull,” at full speed, was turned 
shoreward. The trees and houses were re- 
flected in confused, wriggling patches in the 
listless water, as were several white motor 
boats, lazily swinging at their moorings. 

Captain Jack navigated the craft skilfully, 
while Joe, with a piece of lead, kept sound- 
ing. Within easy jumping distance of the 
shelving shore they finally came to a stop, 
and the anchor rattled overboard. 

“ Now, what’s the program, Jack ? ” asked 
Aleck. 

“ We’ll explore a bit, while Norman visits 
the Colonel.” 

“ And if you hear loud calls for help, lend 
me a hand,” remarked Norman, with a faint 
smile. “ The Colonel is a man of a more 
certain than uncertain temper, and, like the 
Colonel, it rises rapidly and eclipses all com- 
petitors. Well, boys, wish me luck.” 

“ You bet we do ! ” cried Jack. “ Don’t let 
him worry you.” 

“ Keep your fists flying, first, last and all 
the time. Yes — we’ll be along here some- 
where,” added Joe. “ Don’t hurry, and do 
your best.” 


142 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Wonder what the row was about,” mur- 
mured Aleck, as the slender figure of the 
former tutor went along the road. 

“ Ask me an easy one,” said Joe. “ Norman 
doesn’t seem to want to talk about it much, 
does he? But he’s all right ; I’d bet on that. 
Maybe the silly millionaire youngster ” 

“ Oh, give the poor thing a chance,” said 
Jack. 

“ How are we going to meet him, any- 
way ? ” asked Aleck. “ It would look kind 
o’ funny for the whole bunch to go up to the 
front door ” 

“ Wait till Norman gets back,” advised 
Bob. 

“ But suppose the Colonel won’t listen, and 
fires him out — what then ? ” 

“ Oh, I’ll have to see George Clayton, and 
fix it up some way,” laughed Jack. “ We 
must back Norman to the finish in this affair 
—eh, Joe?” 

“That’s one of our jobs; but are we stand- 
ing here for our health, or to ornament the 
landscape ? ” 

“ Right you are ; let’s walk around a bit.” 

Not far away, they found the principal 


House-boat 


H3 


street, running straight back from the river. 
At the foot of this was the ferry landing, and, 
as the group came up, the Tarry town boat was 
swinging rapidly in. 

“ Solid-looking craft,” remarked Aleck. 

“ Has to be,” said Jack. “ Guess it’s nearly 
four miles across, and once in a while they run 
up against some pretty bad storms.” 

The boys found much to interest them. 
The neat dwellings, surrounded b} r pretty gar- 
dens ; the stores, and a fire house, all claimed 
their attention. 

At an automobile supply store, Jack left an 
order for an ample quantity of gasoline, to be 
delivered that afternoon. 

The situation of Nyack is very charming, 
and the boys did not wonder that it has be- 
come quite a popular summer resort. 

In about an hour, they were back at the 
house-boat, but Norman had not yet re- 
turned. 

“ Now, fellows,” remarked Aleck, “ I’m go- 
ing to finish that story about Joe Archer.” 

“ You had him at the Battery, last time,” 
grinned Joe. 

“ Yes, I know. It’s rich. Well, it was this 


144 


The Rambler Club’s 


way : Joe Archer was strutting around in the 
park, with that great walk of his, when, all 
of a sudden, he saw ” 

“ Say, that chap’s a dandy rider, ” inter- 
rupted Joe. “ Sits on his horse like a little 
major.” 

“ And the horse is a crackerjack, too,” put 
in Tom. 

A boy on a white saddle-horse was rapidly 
approaching along the road. 

Suddenly, as his eye rested on the house- 
boat and group in front, he reined in. 

“ Whoa, there, Bucephalus, whoa! ” he ex- 
claimed. “ Steady, boy — whoa ! Hello, you 
chaps, what is that funny-looking thing, any- 
way ? ” 

“ What does it look like? ” asked Joe, with- 
eringly. 

“ Like an old log hut that had broken loose 
from somewhere, and floated somewhere else. 
Whoa, you cheeky beggar! Say — belong to 
you chaps, eh ? ” 

“ You guessed it the first time,” said Jack. 

“ Well, it’s the funniest-looking thing that 
ever floated around these parts. Ever see a 
horse dance before ? Whoa, Bucephalus ! 


House-boat 


145 

Where’d you come from, and where are you 
going ? ” 

“ The 4 Gray Gull/ from New York, bound 
to Albany ; Jack Lyons, master/’ said Joe. 

“ To Albany ? ” The boy whistled. “ Jolly 
good distance — but what a dandy idea. Great 
Scott, I wish I could go on a trip like that ! 
Take passengers ? ” 

“ We’ve taken one, already,” laughed Jack. 

“ How about another?” 

“ We might ” 

“ Well, don’t let your enthusiasm bubble 
over too much. But, say — honest, I am in- 
terested. Bucephalus won’t let me talk. 
Want to come up to the house a minute? ” 

“ Where is it? ” 

“ That big one, with the columns in front.” 

The boys looked at each other in surprise, 
and Jack murmured, “ Well, did you ever?” 

“ My name’s George Clayton,” the boy rat- 
tled on. “ Coming ?— good ! Now mind — 
don’t back out.” 

Next instant, Bucephalus leaped forward, 
George Clayton waved his hand to the boys, 
and galloped down the road. 

“ Well, doesn’t it beat the Dutch that we 


The Rambler Club’s 


146 

should run into him like this ? ” mused Aleck. 
“ Good-looking chap, too ; but cheeky. Nice 
of him to invite us to the house, though. 
Shall we say anything about Norman ? ” 

“ Not at first,” advised Jack. “ Guess we’ll 
meet him at the house, anyway ; and if we 
don’t, leave the talking to me.” 

When the boys arrived at the gate, and en- 
tered between the high, sculptured posts which 
stood on either side, horse and rider had dis- 
appeared back of the palatial Greek mansion. 

Shrubbery and flower beds were strewn 
about with orderly profusion ; cedars and 
other trees dotted the green, sloping lawn, 
and statues, mellowed in tone by contact with 
the elements, stood out sharply against the 
background. On the soft, languorous air 
floated the mingling scents of many flowers, 
and the sun-kissed paths, and shady nooks, 
and rustic benches were a delight to look upon. 

Soon they reached the white-pillared per- 
gola, heavy in the scent of grape-vines, with 
the thick masses of leaves flashing green and 
gold, and the graveled walk beneath streaked 
with purple shadows. On either side of a 
broad flight of steps leading to the terrace 


House-boat 


»47 

around the mansion were Greek vases 
mounted on high pedestals. 

For several moments, the boys surveyed the 
handsome fagade, with its six columns and 
sculptured reliefs in the tympanum above, 
and wondered how it must feel to live in such 
a place. 

Then George Clayton, with undignified 
haste, appeared around a corner. 

“ I was afraid you chaps wouldn’t turn 
up,” he said, waving his hand. “ Come 
along ; I want to hear about that trip,” and 
his tone grew imperious, as if he were ac- 
customed to having his commands obeyed. 

The visitors, nothing loth, sprang quickly 
up the steps. 

As they passed an open window, the sound 
of voices floated out. Apparently a rather 
animated discussion was in progress, and the 
lads exchanged furtive glances. 

George Clayton, too, seemed interested. He 
paused for an instant ; then, with a shrug of 
his shoulders, led the way toward a handsome 
stable and garage in the rear. 

“ I’ve got a workshop there,” he explained, 
“ though it’s precious little work I do.” 


148 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Greek workshop? ” asked Joe, with a grin. 

George looked at him quizzically. 

“ Smart — very smart boy,” he said. “ I 
see your education has been attended to. 
Yes, everything Greek, here — except the 
automobile. Uncle Dan’s got a hobby for 
Greek stuff.” 

As they entered the stable a short, slight 
man, with a dark, flowing moustache, looked 
up in surprise. 

“ Ma foi ! ” he exclaimed. “ Master George, 
how you scare me — so many peepuls. Does 
monsieur, your uncle, want the automobile 
this afternoon ? ” 

“ Don’t know, Pierre,” answered George, 
and he bounded lightly up-stairs, followed 
by the four. 

“ That’s Pierre Dufour, our French chauf- 
feur,” said the boy, when they had entered 
a room adjoining the hay-loft. “ Speaks 
rather funny English ; but I practice my 
French on him, and how the poor chap 
stands it I don’t know. Parlez vous Fran- 
cis?” 

“ Not on your life,” said Jack, with a smile. 

“ Et moi pas beaucoup, which means I 


House-boat 


149 


don’t know much either,” said the million- 
aire boy. “ But never mind. Sit down 
anywhere you can. Honest, it’s funny to 
have a whole lot of fellows here and not 
know one of your names. But I’m always 
doing funny things ; Uncle Dan says so, any- 
way.” 

The boys quickly introduced themselves. 

“ You have a dandy place to work in,” said 
Jack. 

“ And such a fine room to sit around and 
read,” sighed Fred. “ Got a lot of books, 
too.” 

“ Well, just keep away from ’em for once,” 
grinned Joe. 

“ But let’s hear about your trip,” said 
George, with a slightly impatient gesture. 
“ I’m awfully curious ; must be simply 
great.” 

Jack explained, and George’s eyes began to 
sparkle. 

“ Well,” he said, with a long breath, “ that’s 
just the kind of a trip I’d like to take. You 
see, fellows,” he went on, confidentially, “ I’d 
like to rough it a bit, and forget all about 
mussing up my clothes and getting my hands 


150 


The Rambler Club’s 


dirty. You chaps may think it funny that I 
want to butt in, when I never saw you before ; 
but you look like the right sort, and I guess 
we could gee together all right. Hang it, Fm 
sick of having everything I want thrown at 
me. There — it’s out now. Knocking around 
does a chap a world of good.” 

“ Nothing better,” agreed Bob Somers. 

“ Well, will you take another passenger ? 
I was going to Albany at the end of the week, 
anyway. I’ll pay you well.” 

Jack glanced at his chums, and they 
nodded. 

“ Certainly,” he answered. “ Never mind 
about the pay ; but you’ll have to rough it a 
bit.” 

“ Didn’t I tell you that’s iust what I want 
to do ? ” 

“ Perhaps your guardian will object? ” 

“ I generally have a way of doing what I 
like,” said George, dryly ; “ though once in 
a while uncle puts up an awful kick.” 

“ We were going to leave this afternoon,” 
suggested Joe. 

“ I can easily catch up with you if your 
house-boat doesn’t put on too much speed,” 


House-boat 


151 

laughed George. “ Pierre can make that auto 
fairly hum. But come ahead, fellows, and 
take a look at the house. ” 

The interior of the Greek mansion, they 
found, was fully up to the standard set by 
the exterior. It was only two stories in 
height, but the rooms were large and im- 
posing. A broad stairway led up to the 
gallery, at the four corners of which were 
blue and gold Ionic columns. The ornate 
railing was in the same scheme of color, 
while suspended from it were gorgeous dra- 
peries imported from China and Japan. 

When George led the way into the atrium, 
a room of marble and mosaic, with a beauti- 
ful little fountain in the center, the boys 
opened their eyes with wonder. At both ends 
were statues and marble benches. 

“ Like it ? ” asked George. 

“Well, I should say so,” answered Jack, 
with admiration in his tones. “ Never saw 
anything to beat it.” 

“ Nor I,” added Fred Winter. 

“ Some of your friends, George? ” 

Turning, the boys saw a tall, well-built man 
with a military carriage surveying them with 


l 5 2 


The Rambler Club’s 


a questioning look. His hair and moustache 
were iron-gray. His aquiline nose and keen 
gray eyes would ordinarily have given him 
an air of sternness, but, at the present mo- 
ment, this was greatly increased by his very 
evident look of annoyance. 

“ Never saw them until to-day, uncle,” re- 
plied George, cheerfully. 

Colonel Ellison’s frown deepened. 

“ Never saw them until to-day ! ” he echoed, 
somewhat to the embarrassment of the house- 
boat boys. “ How is that? ” 

“ Uncle,” said George, without replying to 
his question, “'this is Jack Lyons, of New 
York ” 

“ Jack Lyons — any relation to Mr. John 
Lyons, the New York lawyer?” 

“ My father,” said Jack, promptly. 

“ H’m.” The Colonel’s face relaxed some- 
what. “ I know him by reputation — a good 
lawyer and useful citizen,” he said, less stiffly. 

Then, with a bow, Colonel Ellison turned 
abruptly on his heel. 

“ Uncle isn’t in a good humor to-day,” re- 
marked George, calmly. “Something must 
have upset him.” 


House-boat 


*J3 


“ Say, George,” whispered Jack Lyons, as 
they stood at the front door, “ I want to tell 
you something — Norman Redfern is with us.” 

“ What ! ” cried the other, in the greatest 
surprise. “ How in the dickens did you ever 
run across him ? I want to know all about 
this.” 

And linking arms with Jack, he led the 
way out to the pergola. 

Jack briefly explained. 

“ Now I know what disturbed my guardian,” 
said George, with a low whistle. “ Why 
didn’t you tell me at first? ” 

“ Thought we’d let it go for a while,” 
grinned Joe. 

“ Well — Norman is a peach,” said George, 
slowly. “ But Uncle Dan is awfully set 
against him, and I guess it didn’t do him a 
bit of good to come here. Too bad. Honest, I 
never knew what the row was about. I asked 
Norman, but he’s a sensitive chap, and grew 
red in the face, and stammered ; and Uncle 
Dan said, ‘ It’s not necessary for you to know, 
young man,’ and when he says ‘ young man ' 
to me that ends it. But I’d stick up for 
Norman every time.” 


*54 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ And so should I,” said Jack, warmly. 
“ Wish we could help him out.” 

“ But how can we, when none of us even 
knows what it’s about?” said George, in a per- 
plexed tone. “ Jiminy, I’ll try to get him 
to tell me. Let’s go down to the house-boat.” 

But Norman Redfern was nowhere to be 
seen, and, after waiting for some time, George 
took his leave. 

“ Remember, fellows, keep an eye open for 
a big gasoline tank and cushioned seats,” 
were his parting words. 

“ And now, Joe, what do you think of the 
millionaire boy ? ” asked Jack, when the for- 
mer was out of hearing. 

“ He’s all right,” said Joe. 


CHAPTER X 


IN THE AUTOMOBILE 

George Clayton did not broach the subject 
of his trip that afternoon. Colonel Ellison 
was still decidedly out of sorts, and George 
knew from experience how he should be ap- 
proached. 

But the boy had been too long pampered 
and indulged to make him regard the pros- 
pect with any trepidation. The Colonel 
might object — he often did that, but only to 
capitulate in the end in the face of his ward’s 
importunities — and the present case seemed 
only to call for a little tact. 

“ I’m going,” muttered the boy to himself, 
“ and I’d like to see anybody try to stop me.” 

After dinner that evening Colonel Ellison’s 
frown had departed and George entered his 
study with confidence. 

“ Uncle,” he said, “ you remember last 
week I spoke about going to Albany ; well, 
I’d like to start to-morrow.” 

155 


The Rambler Club’s 


156 

Colonel Ellison laid down his pen, and 
glanced inquiringly over the rim of his eye- 
glasses. 

“ One of your school chums lives there, I 
believe ? ” he said. 

“ Yes, sir ; and I want to get a chance to see 
him again before I’m bundled off bag and 
baggage to college.” 

“ Well, I don’t see any objections,” said the 
Colonel, slowly. “ Remember the advice I 
have given you on previous occasions. And 
now, George, I’m extremely busy to-night, 
getting ready for a meeting of the board to- 
morrow, and I don’t wish to be disturbed 
under any pretext, as I must take an early 
train for New York in the morning.” 

“ But, uncle,” said George, “ I wanted to ask 
you if ” 

Colonel Ellison frowned, and impatiently 
seized his pen. 

“ You have my permission,” he said sharply. 
“ Not another word, young man.” 

He waved his hand, and George left the 
room. 

“ Well, it’s not my fault if he doesn’t like 
it,” thought the boy. “ Let’s see how things 


House-boat 


*57 


stand. I have his permission to go to Albany ; 
he said ‘ Jack Lyons’ father is a good lawyer 
and useful citizen ’ ; in that case, Jack must 
be all right, too. Besides, he would have 
consented — of course he would.” And, hav- 
ing satisfied himself that everything was as 
it ought to be, George retired, with pleasant 
visions of his trip. 

Colonel Ellison left before George had a 
chance to see him, and the latter ate a hasty 
breakfast alone, his aunt having also gone to 
New York. 

Then he packed up a few necessary be- 
longings, donned one of his oldest suits, and 
made his way to the garage. 

“ Bon jour, Pierre,” he said. 

“ Bon jour, monsieur,” returned the French- 
man, politely. “ You desire to speak with 
me ? ” 

“ Yes, get out the machine, Pierre. We’ll 
have a spin.” 

Pierre looked at his young master’s clothes, 
and arched his eyebrows ; then, with a slight 
gesture, turned toward the car. 

“ When monsieur is ready, I will be, too,” 
he said. 


158 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ I’m ready now.” 

“ Ma foi ! ” But beyond this momentary 
expression of surprise, Pierre made no com- 
ment, and, in a few minutes, he announced 
his readiness to go. 

George deposited his suit case in the car, 
and took his place beside him. 

“ Let ’er rip,” he said. 

“What is rip?” asked Pierre. “ My coat?” 

“ No, no,” laughed the other. “ Allez vite 
— go fast.” 

“ Ma foi ! I see — you speak such funny 
English. Ha, ha ! Yes, we let her rip, 
which not means that I tear the machine to 
pieces.” 

“ Oh, no,” laughed George. “ The car be- 
longs to me, you know — bought it with my 
own cash. When that’s to be done, I’ll at- 
tend to it myself.” 

The touring car was soon passing between 
the gate-posts at the entrance. 

“ Now, where? ” asked Pierre. 

“ Follow the river.” 

George settled back on the cushioned seat 
with a sigh of contentment. The morning 
was pleasant, with enough air stirring to 


House-boat 


i59 


temper the heat; and the broad Hudson 
sparkled and gleamed between the trees like 
silver. Birds were singing and flitting about; 
a couple of red squirrels dashed frantically 
across the sunlit road, making for the nearest 
tree, and were soon lost to view amidst the 
foliage. It was all very pleasant and cheer- 
ful, and George's shining eyes told of his en- 
joyment. 

“ How far we go?" asked the chauffeur, 
presently. 

“ Oh, a good way yet, Pierre ; I'm bound 
for Albany." 

“ Ma foi ! " exclaimed the Frenchman, in 
great astonishment. “ But why you not say 
that before we go wrong way ? " and he 
brought the machine to a standstill. 

“ Oh, no, it's all right, Pierre," laughed 
George. “ Keep straight ahead till I tell 
you to stop. I'm not going to the railroad 
station." 

“ Oh, you take a boat, then ? " 

“ Yes, a kind of one." 

And Pierre, sorely puzzled, shook his head, 
and muttered, “ Ma foi " several times, under 
his breath. 


160 The Rambler Club’s 

The boy’s eyes were constantly roving over 
the river for any signs of the “ Gray Gull ” ; 
but half an hour passed, and it had not been 
sighted in any of the numerous little coves, 
or along the broad sweep of the river. 

“ Wonder where in the dickens it can 
have gone to,” murmured George, with a 
sudden fear that his plans might after all go 
astray. 

“ What you say ? ” 

“ Nothing, Pierre ; I was only thinking.” 

“ H’m,” muttered the Frenchman, and he 
contracted his brow, and cast a very strange 
look at his young companion. 

“ Hooray ! I see it ! ” exclaimed George, 
suddenly. “ Put on a bit more speed, Pierre. 
That funny-looking house-boat is what I’m 
after.” 

“ Eight seconds I take you there, but for 
the law,” said Pierre. “ We go fast, but slow, 
too. Is it enough ? ” 

“ Yes ! ” cried George, holding on tight. 
“ Whizz ! Look at that trail of dust behind 
us!” 

A few moments later, the millionaire boy 
was waving his arms, while the puzzled ex- 


House-boat 


161 

pression on Pierre’s face grew into one of 
positive wonderment. 

“ Hello, Jack — hello ! ” 

An answering hail came over the water, 
and the “ Gray Gull ” began to put inshore. 

“ Hold on, Pierre ; we don’t go any fur- 
ther,” said George, his eyes sparkling with 
pleasure. “ You can skip back home.” 

“ Ma foi ! You — you go on that thing, 
Monsieur George? It isn’t possible. No — 
no ; you say it for to make a laugh — what 
you call it in English a joke ; ees that not 
it ? ” 

“ Joke, nothing, Pierre. Just wait here a 
minute and you’ll see me sailing away.” 

“ I no understand it, monsieur. Your 
uncle, he knows ? ” 

“ Now look here, Pierre,” said George, 
whose eyes were beginning to flash ; “ I 

don’t see that it’s any of your affair. I’m 
surprised at you. Stop here, and I’ll get 
out.” 

“ Ha — that man again,” cried the chauffeur, 
suddenly. “ Ah, ha, monsieur your uncle say 
to him, 'Keep away — I no want you here.’ 
Yes, saire.” 


162 The Rambler Club's 


“ Great Scott ! 77 gasped George. “ If it 
isn't Norman Redfern standing on the deck. 
Well, of all things ! I thought he had gone 
back to the Palisades.” 

Although more than glad to see his former 
tutor, George was vexed that the chauffeur 
should have noted his presence, especially as 
Pierre had, for some reason or other, taken a 
strong dislike to him and never made any ef- 
fort to conceal it. Then, again, he felt that 
his uncle would certainly object to his travel- 
ing in company with the young man whom 
he had so unceremoniously discharged ; yet 
to back out now would be to put upon Nor- 
man a slight which he felt was not deserved. 

The result of these cogitations was to make 
George very irritable indeed ; and Pierre’s 
next words added fuel to his feelings. 

“ Yes, saire, he say, 4 Keep away — I no want 
you here ; 1 and you go with that man, Mon- 
sieur George? Ma foi — pouf! What will 
monsieur the Colonel say ? ” 

George, suit case in hand, had stepped to 
the ground. 

“ Cut it out, Pierre,” he exclaimed, angrily. 
“ You have the worst nerve I ever heard of.” 


>1 





“his eyes snapped fiercely” 




















































* 


























































* 













House-boat 


163 

“ I understand monsieur the Coloners Eng- 
lish ; but not yours, sometimes/ 7 returned the 
chauffeur, in withering accents. 

“ Well, you 7 ll understand it pretty fast 
when I get back home. Unless you learn 
your place a bit better, I 7 11 have you fired. 
Hello, Jack ! Hello, Norman ! Be with you 
in a moment. 77 

“ Fired — fired ! What you mean by 
fired? 77 

“ Sent off — discharged, stupid. 77 

A wave of intelligence crossed Pierre 7 s face ; 
his eyes snapped fiercely. 

“ You have insult me, 77 he said, haughtily. 
“ Very well — we see. Bah ! And if he say 
anything to me, 77 indicating Norman by a 
wave of his hand, “ I smack him in the face 
like this, 77 and Pierre smote the air with con- 
siderable force. 

George looked at him for a moment in si- 
lence. Then the chauffeurs ludicrous expres- 
sion caused his own angry feelings to sud- 
denly vanish ; he burst into a hearty laugh, 
much to the astonishment and disgust of 
Pierre, and, picking up his suit case, walked 
toward the river. 


164 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Hello, George ! What’s the row ? ” asked 
Jack Lyons, from the deck of the “ Gray 
Gull.” “ Did you try your French on him 
again ? ” 

“ Wait a second, Jack ; very glad to see you, 
Norman,” and the rich boy’s tone spoke of his 
sincerity. “ Hello, what’s that duffer up 
to?” 

Pierre, whose Latin blood was thoroughly 
aroused, had started forward. 

“ You have insult me ! ” he cried. “ And 
for why? — For him,” pointing to Norman 
Redfern. “I no stand it, monsieur; your 
uncle shall hear — ma foi — he shall ! ” 

“ Duck him in the river, and cool him off,” 
advised Joe. 

“ Ha, you call me ‘ duck,’ hey ? And I say 
to you — ‘ goose ’ ! Pouf ! In the belle France, 
children no talk like that.” 

“ Oh, ring off,” remarked Joe, scornfully. 

“ I will myself to your uncle report, 
and ” 

“ Don’t report any one else,” laughed Joe. 

“ By and by, I come for you with monsieur 
the Colonel,” went on Pierre, fiercely. “ You 
say fired — fired, to me ? Pouf — you see ! ” 


House-boat 


165 

and, with another wave of his hand, the ex- 
cited Frenchman was off, while the others 
stood gazing after his , retreating form in si- 
lence. 


CHAPTER XI 


GEORGE GOES ALONG 

“ Well, what do you think of that ? ” ex- 
claimed George, at length, with a disgusted 
look. “Doesn’t it beat all? Just as I 
thought I was going to have the jolliest kind 
of time, that poor Frenchy has to try to spoil 
the fun. I’m afraid he’ll do it, too.” 

“ But surely you told your uncle that you 
were coming on the house-boat? ” put in Nor- 
man Redfern. 

“ I’ll explain in a second, Norm. Give 
your old dory a shove, Jack — that’s it. 
Whoa ! This thing is most as bad as Bu- 
cephalus.” 

In spite of his disturbed condition of mind 
and the dory’s apparent desire to move in 
every direction at once, George was landed 
safely on the “ Gray Gull.” 

From the distance came the faint toot of an 
automobile horn ; the big red machine seemed 
to be fairly flying. 


166 


House-boat 


167 

“ Scorching — speed laws busted,” grinned 
Joe. 

“ Shake, Norman ; I am real glad to see 
you,” said George. “ No, Uncle Dan didn’t 
know I was coming on the ‘ Gray Gull.’ 
Here’s the way it happened.” 

And George, seating himself comfortably on 
the bench, related his story. 

“ And doesn’t it seem the queerest thing in 
the world that we should meet like this, Nor- 
man ? ” he commented. u And all on account 
of these chaps.” 

The former tutor’s face had clouded over. 

“ Yes, it’s very strange,” he said, gravely. 
“ And though I’m more than glad to see you, 
George, I should advise you to go back.” 

“ Go back ? ” echoed George, with a decided 
shake of his head. “ I guess not. Do you 
think I’d let Pierre crow over me? No, sir — 
why, he deserves to be fired out, bag and bag- 
gage.” 

“ Certainly did act a bit snippy,” said Jack. 

“ Must be a fussy fellow,” added Joe. “ * 1 
say to you, goose — pouf,’ ” and Joe laughed 
heartily. 

“ Well,” remarked George, reflectively, 


i68 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ there’s going to be a nice little row. I can 
feel it coming ; but it isn’t my fault. Any- 
way, I’m tired of being looked after as though 
I were like a pound of butter on a hot sum- 
mer day. I’m going to Albany on the * Gray 
Gull.’ ” 

Norman argued the point ; but George’s ex- 
pression bespoke a determination which was 
not to be shaken, and the others sided with 
him. The former tutor was, therefore, forced 
to yield. 

“ By the way, Norman, what makes Pierre 
dislike you so much?” asked the rich boy, 
presently. 

“ Pierre heard me discussing the French, 
one evening, and not understanding English 
very well, he thought, quite mistakenly, that 
I had referred to la belle France in slighting 
terms,” answered Norman, with a smile. “ He 
is excitable, and I couldn’t convince him of 
his error.” 

“ That’s Pierre, all over,” grunted George. 
“ Say, how did you get along with Uncle Dan, 
yesterday ? ” 

“ Not at all ; he explained that I need not 
call again.” 


House-boat 


169 


“ It's a downright shame.” 

“ I suppose you were surprised to see me 
here?” 

“ You bet I was.” 

“ The boys persuaded me to keep on ; and 
it didn’t take much persuasion, either, for I 
want to see my old alma mater, near Al- 
bany.” 

“ I tell you, fellows, I feel like a bird out 
of a cage,” said George, stepping to the door. 
“ Look at these duds — it’s roughing it with 
a vengeance, eh ? Wait till Uncle Dan’s eyes 
rest on ’em. For goodness’ sake, Jack, get 
the old scow moving.” 

“Just what I’m going to do; but the tide 
is against us, and we’ll never beat out your 
uncle’s auto.” 

“ Perhaps some constable will nab that 
chauffeur,” remarked Joe, hopefully. 

“ Autos are not much on swimming, are 
they?” suggested Tom Clifton. “And your 
uncle’s hasn’t any wings ; so we needn’t 
worry. A little wireless conversation over 
the water won’t hurt.” 

“ When Uncle Dan gets his dander up, 
things are apt to hum,” said George, as he 


7 ° 


The Rambler Club’s 


picked up Confuse-us by the nape of the neck, 
and examined his pudgy little face. “ He’ll 
get back from the city about three, and 
then ” 

“ Scorching, and 4 pouf/ again/’ grinned 
Joe. 

“ You’ve hit it,” said George, with a laugh. 
“ But until trouble begins I’m going to enjoy 
myself.” 

Not far from Ossining, which is situated on 
the eastern shore, the boys saw a narrow strip 
of land jutting out into the river. 

“ Curious, isn’t it ? ” said Redfern. 

The boys decided that it was. But they 
voted down a proposition to cross the stream. 

“ I no run away from any trouble,” said 
Joe, with a remarkable French accent. 

“ Haverstraw’s the next town,” declared 
Jack Lyons. 

“ That’s where those barges loaded with 
bricks come from,” explained Norman Red- 
fern. “ No doubt you have often noticed 
them. The annual production of the town 
must be enormous.” 

“ Lots of boats around,” said Fred. “ Won- 
der where they all come from.” 


House-boat 


1 7 1 


“ The great volume of traffic on the Hudson 
is largely due to the Erie Canal,” explained 
Norman. “ Running from Albany to Lake 
Erie, it connects the East and West. Wheat, 
lumber, grain and many other products are 
brought here, while from New York merchan- 
dise is sent to many distributing points. The 
Hudson is really an arm of the sea, with the 
tide running as far as Albany.” 

“ There’s an old lumber boat out there, 
now,” said George. 

“ Yes ! Perhaps its cargo came all the way 
from the forests of Wisconsin. Isn’t it a 
picturesque sight, with those dingy gray 
sails ? ” 

“ Looks great,” admitted Jack. “ Funny 
life — guess the captain’s an old, wrinkled 
chap with a voice like a fog-horn.” 

“ Most of ’em are,” said Joe. “ But look at 
that dandy steam yacht. Isn’t she just scoot- 
ing along? ” 

“ I’ve been on her several times,” put in 
George, with his eye to the telescope. “ Be- 
longs to a Wall street broker, a friend of Uncle 
Dan’s. But there’s lots more fun on a house- 
boat.” 


172 The Rambler Club’s 

“ You can bet ; I wouldn’t change,” said 
Bob. 

The famous Highlands of the Hudson, con- 
sisting of numerous ranges of hills, many over 
a thousand feet high and a few of consider- 
ably greater altitude, were now assuming def- 
inate shape ; Haverstraw Bay, a continuation 
of the Tappan Sea, was coming to an end. 

George almost forgot his troubles. Sitting 
at his ease on the “ promenade ” deck, or 
taking his turn at the tiller, he told the others 
that he had never enjoyed himself more. 

Haverstraw, with its kilns and factories, its 
smoke, and the odd-shaped, precipitous moun- 
tain which looks down upon it, was soon 
passed. 

The Highlands were now close at hand. 
Above their lofty summits floated a succession 
of hazy clouds, which sent fleeting shadows 
to dim the fresh green of the tree-covered 
slopes. And how steep and rugged they 
were ; with here and there bold, rocky forms 
flashing into view between the vegetation. 

While the “ Gray Gull ” slowly chugged its 
way toward the narrow stretch of river a 
sense of smallness came over the boys. 


House- boat 


1 73 

“ Looks as if the river ended,” cried Jack, 
suddenly. 

“ Certainly does, skipper,” said Dave. “ We 
seem to be headed straight for the rocks.” 

“ Follow the water, and you’ll be all right,” 
laughed Joe. 

“ We’re coming to what is known as the 
‘ Horse Race,’ ” explained Norman, “ and, 
as the tide is in our favor, we ought to 
make good progress. Isn’t it magnificent, 
boys ? ” 

“ It’s all right, twice ! ” cried Jack, enthu- 
siastically. “ Simply great.” 

The transition from the very broad expanse 
of river to the narrowness of the gorge was 
novel and interesting. Here and there the 
steep slopes jutted out into the stream, and 
Jack kept far enough from shore to hold a 
straight course. 

They soon found that the Horse Race was 
well named. The water surged and swirled 
along as if angry that the clumsy house-boat 
should invade its domain. A fresh breeze 
helped to agitate the surface, and the blue 
waves sometimes rose high enough to splash 
on deck. 


174 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Could anything be finer ? ” asked George, 
enthusiastically. 

“I don’t see how,” responded Norman. 

“ I thought the Palisades were pretty high,” 
said Jack, “ but they are not much compared 
with these.” 

“ Now we are going to be tossed about a bit 
— here comes an excursion steamer,” remarked 
Fred. 

A huge white boat, standing out clearly 
against the dark background, rapidly ap- 
proached, the smoke from its funnels float- 
ing backward in a long, bluish streak. Jack 
got his clumsy craft as far out of the way as 
possible, and the “ Gray Gull ” rode out the 
huge swells with many a lurch and wobble. 

“ Hooray!” cried Joe. “ Never even 
touched the bottom.” 

George took his hand off the support which 
had enabled him to remain erect, and said, 
“ Guess I needn’t bother about Uncle Dan 
just now.” 

“ An automobile along here ought to make 
a hit,” said Aleck. 

“ You bet ; and an awful splash when the 
pieces struck the water.” 


House-boat 


17 5 


Joe Preston laughed loudly at his own 
words, and the others, except Fred Winter, 
rewarded him by an appreciative smile. 

“ So, at the present moment/’ went on 
George, with a sigh of satisfaction, “ there is 
nothing to bother us. What are you doing 
with those pieces of board, Norman — going to 
make a rest for the telescope ? ” 

“ Yes — so that we can study the stars.” 

“ That’s a great idea,” said Fred Winter. 
“ Joe, here, needs special instruction in most 
everything ; and a bit of astronomy may help.” 

“ And while you are about it,” giggled Joe, 
“ add a course on bookworms and diplomacy.” 

“ And on the awful fate that overtakes 
young chaps who are always going to do, but 
never start,” retaliated Fred. 

“ So that we shall have a little floating col- 
lege, all to ourselves, and with rather unusual 
branches,” chimed in Norman, with a smile. 

The swift tide carried the “ Gray Gull ” 
ahead at a lively pace, and the views seemed 
to grow more and more picturesque. Nature 
seemed to have combined the wild and grand 
with the delicate and poetic ; dark, frowning 
crags above ; and sylvan dells below. Here, 


176 The Rambler Club’s 

the banks steep and rugged, with the shadowed 
river rushing swiftly by ; there, gentle, slop- 
ing stretches, whose sunlit groves seemed to 
extend a cheerful welcome. At another place, 
the hills on the right opened out, giving them 
a glimpse of the far distance, with deep blue 
mountain forms. 

And on this late summer day, with the 
white clouds floating overhead and a tender, 
dreamy effect enveloping the entire land- 
scape, the boys felt like breaking forth into 
song. And they did ; and the result, while 
not especially harmonious, proved that their 
hearts were as light as the glancing beams 
which traveled across the hills and valleys. 

“ Fellows,” said Bob Somers, at length, “ I 
move that to-night we do the Nimrod act ; 
camping out will be good for a change.” 

“ Agreed ! ” answered Jack. “ Plenty of 
good places around. It will be great ; build 
a fire and cook our grub like you Rambler 
chaps used to do.” 

“ And afterward, we can take a look at the 
stars,” said Fred, with his usual solemnity. 

Miles and miles were traversed, and still the 
Highlands continued. 


House-boat 


1 77 


“ I say, my jolly tars/' remarked Jack, sud- 
denly, “ we're coming to West Point. It’s on 
that hill to the left." 

“ Such a place as this is enough to make a 
fellow feel like becoming a soldier," said 
Aleck. “ Those lads must have a dandy 
time." 

“ The discipline is very strict," said Nor- 
man, “ and they have to study hard. But 
our future generals have probably as fine a 
military academy, and one as well situated as 
any in the world." 

At this point, the river takes a bend to the 
west ; then, a short distance further up, the 
general northerly direction of the channel is 
resumed. 

The “ Gray Gull " slowly rounded the base 
of West Point, the boys, in ease and comfort, 
enjoying the changing scenes. As the course 
of the house-boat was again changed, a magnif- 
icent view opened out before them. A placid 
reach, considerably wider than the one they 
had just traversed, stretched far off toward 
the horizon. A mountain rose on either 
hand, while beyond these the vista melted 
into the bluish haze of distance. 


178 The Rambler Club’s 


“ Perfectly stunning,” cried Dave, enthu- 
siastically. 

“ Storm King Mountain to the west ; the 
other is known as Break Neck Hill,” explained 
Redfern. 

“ And it looks it,” said Jack. “ Whew ! 
Did you ever see such a pile of slippery-look- 
ing rock ? ” 

“ It’s about twice as high as the Palisades,” 
went on Redfern, unconsciously assuming the 
air of a tutor, “ and got its name from the 
many accidents which have happened on its 
steep, rocky sides. Imagine the dangerous 
places which might be encountered by any 
one climbing it.” 

“ But why should any one wish to? ” asked 
George. 

Redfern laughed. 

“ Some people have a strange desire to 
conquer the seemingly impossible,” he said, 
dryly, “ and, now and then, one pays the 
penalty.” 

The boys surveyed the vast pile with in- 
terest. Stern and forbidding, it seemed to 
frown menacingly upon the quiet water be- 
low. Steep declivities, patches of barren 


House-boat 


‘79 


rocks and precipices make this mountain 
strangely different from the verdured heights 
close at hand. 

Civilization has encroached upon the wild 
grandeur of the scene. A railroad skirts the 
base of the hill ; and now a train rattles 
along, the sharp blasts of its whistle being 
flung in a series of echoes from hill to hill. 

Storm King Mountain is a great rounded 
pile, its base rising abruptly from the river. 

The wonder and delight of the boys in- 
creased. 

“ This is one of the most celebrated places 
on the Hudson/’ declared Norman Redfern. 
“ I once heard Colonel Ellison say that it re- 
minded him of Lake Como, in Italy.” 

“ Doesn’t it seem shut in by the moun- 
tains ? ” said ^George. “ And only a little 
further down it was miles across.” 

Finally, the stream widened out, though 
not like the Tappan Sea ; the country became 
less hilly, and looking back, they could see 
the Highlands to the right and left, in a long, 
unbroken line, their summits illuminated by 
a delicate, rosy glow. 

Another hour’s journey, and Bob, whose 


180 The Rambler Club’s 

eyes were constantly roving about, exclaimed, 
“ Hello, look at those two motor boats tied 
up by the shore ! ” 

“ The 4 Reindeer ’ and ‘ Dart/ ” read Aleck, 
after a moment’s survey through the telescope. 

“ That’s a swell place for camping out,” put 
in Joe, pointing ahead. “ Lots of trees to hide 
the boat from any one on the road, if there is 
one. George’s uncle would never think of 
looking for us here.” 

“ You’re right, Joe,” agreed Jack, “ and — 
what’s the matter, Norman ? ” 

The former tutor had just lowered the tele- 
scope. 

“ I’ve made quite a discovery, boys,” he an- 
swered, with a smile. “ One of those motor 
boats belongs to the school which I attended, 
and the other to the rival institution I told 
you about.” 

“ Gee whiz ! That’s interesting,” cried Jack. 
“ We might meet some of those chaps, and 
have a jolly good time together. Here’s where 
we camp for the night.” 


CHAPTER XII 


PIERRE CATCHES UP 

“ You can go a bit further in, Jack,” said 
Joe, who was busy sounding with the lead. 

“ Too much risk of getting the propeller all 
choked up with weeds, Joe, old boy. Shut 
off the power, Norman ; that’s right. Give 
me a hand with the anchor, George. Good ! 
Now, fellows, we are all right for the night.” 

“ I don’t see any of those school chaps 
around ; do you ? ” asked Tom, presently. 

“ No,” said Jack. 

“ Wonder what in thunder they are doing, 
so far away from Albany; and how is it that 
the rivals are together?” 

“ Say, does this sort of thing go on every 
year? I’d jolly well like to join.” 

Norman smiled, as the volley of questions 
was fired at him. 

“ Give me a chance, boys, and I’ll explain,” 
he said. “ No ! I don’t believe the boys are 
together. Most likely there is the same 
rivalry as before ; and they are having lots of 
181 


182 


The Rambler Club’s 


fun at each other's expense. You see, the 
seniors of Ripley Academy — my school — 
formed a motor boat club ; and every year, 
just before school begins, they take a long 
cruise on the Hudson. Thornton Preparatory 
School, not to be outdone, followed their ex- 
ample, and this time the rival clubs may have 
met by chance, or, perhaps, one followed the 
other." 

“ Should think they'd leave some chaps on 
guard," murmured Tom. 

“ Probably a truce has been declared," 
smiled Norman. “ But if you don't see some 
lively times when the boys get back, things 
have changed since I left the school." 

“ And I hope we do," said Bob, briskly. 
“ We may give 'em a bit of help, too." 

“ Now let’s get our stuff on shore, and do 
the camping out in the best style." 

“ Wonder if the fish would bite, out here," 
mused Aleck. 

“ Put your hand in the water and see," 
snickered Joe. 

“ No fooling, fellows ; but lend a hand," 
said Jack. “ Fire to start and grub to cook, 
you know." 


House-boat 


‘§3 

Within a few minutes, the boys had gath- 
ered and chopped a quantity of wood, an old, 
decaying log close by furnishing most of the 
fuel. Then the bright flames began twisting 
and curling, sending aloft a shower of sparks, 
while the smoke lazily drifted away among 
the trees. 

“ We’re just as good as woodsmen at this 
game even if we do come from the city,” re- 
marked Jack. 

“ Some fellows would have been crazy 
enough to try and cook their grub hunter 
fashion,” added Joe, with a wink at Bob. 

A slice of ham was soon sizzling away ; 
then the coffee-pot began to simmer over a 
pile of glowing embers. Sardines, biscuits 
and gingerbread completed the supper, which 
all the boys thoroughly enjoyed. 

By the time they had cleaned up, the 
clouds above were edged with an orange glow. 
Between the trees close at hand, they caught 
glimpses in the western sky of brilliant yel- 
lows, pinks, and purples, and pale, delicate 
greens, all forming a riot of color which ri- 
valed that of the rainbow. 

“ Must be a jolly fine sunset,” said George; 


184 The Rambler Club’s 


“ I’m going to take a walk and get a good 
look at it. Coming, fellows ? " 

All but Norman assented. 

“ HI stick by the ‘ Gray Gull/ George/' he 
said ; “ and work on that telescope stand a 
bit. It will be a fine night for a peep at the 
moon, too, which should be at its best.” 

“ All right/' said George. “ If those school 
chaps get back, tell 'em to wait. Funny the 
duffers are staying away so long." 

The five plunged directly into the woods. 
A touch of the warm sunset glow rested upon 
the foliage and tree trunks, relieving the 
somber tones of the denser portions. Over 
vines and masses of ferns, with George in the 
lead, they went, listening to the chatter and 
song of the birds so soon to be hushed by the 
approaching night. 

“ Haven’t enjoyed myself like this for 
a year," declared George, enthusiastically. 
“ It’s grand to feel as free as one of these 
birds. Guess I can square it with Uncle Dan." 

“ And ‘ Pouf/ too ? " asked Joe, with a grin. 

“ Pierre may learn a few things," said 
George, with a touch of anger in his voice. 
“ Say — isn’t that a road ahead ? ” 


House- boat 


185 

“Surest thing you know,” said Jack. 
“ And the woods end right here ; and I’m 
glad of it — about forty-five twigs have scraped 
acquaintance with my face already. Great 
Scott, what’s that? ” 

A weird cry suddenly echoed through the 
woods ; then from the distance came another. 

“ Only an owl, Jack,” laughed Bob. 
“Thought you were going to jump out of 
your boots.” 

“ Make an all-fired racket, don’t they ? ” 
murmured Jack, slightly confused. 

“ Here’s the road, fellows. Lovely view of 
the sunset. Going to put this in your history, 
Joe ? ” 

“ You bet.” 

“ Begin to-night?” 

“ Of course,” said Joe, in very uncertain 
tones. “ Say ! Where are we going now ? ” 

“ This way,” said George, waving his hand. 

“ I’d rather go in the other direction,” ob- 
jected Joe. “ Looks more interesting, eh, 
Jack?” 

“ Count me in, old boy.” 

“ I’ll go with George,” said Bob Somers. 

“ Think I’ll go that way, too,” put in Dave. 


i86 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ So shall I,” added Tom. 

Aleck and Fred studied the situation a 
moment and also decided to cast their lot with 
George. 

“ All right,” laughed Jack. “ Have your 
own way. We’ll meet you here, after a bit. 
Come on, Joe.” And the boys separated. 

The road was wide and lined here and there 
with trees and fences. Broad fields extended 
off toward the low-lying hills, now purple 
against the sunset sky. It was a pleasant 
pastoral scene, with farmhouses and growing 
crops and patches of trees. 

The two wandered along until the glow had 
faded from the clouds and a gray ness was be- 
ginning to steal over the landscape. 

“ Better be skipping back now, Joe,” re- 
marked Jack. “ It’s getting kind o’ late ; 
and you’ve got that history to write.” 

“ And you could begin makin’ some pictures 
for it,” gurgled Joe. 

When the two arrived at the place where 
the others had parted from them, they found 
it deserted ; so Jack seated himself on a broad 
slab of rock, while Joe idly leaned against a 
fence close by. 


House-boat 


187 

“ Maybe the whole bunch got tired, and 
went back to the boat,” remarked Jack, 
presently. “ We won’t wait here all night, 
either. Say ! There’s an auto coming along 
to beat the band.” 

“ Let it come,” said Joe, absently ; he was 
looking for a chance to tickle Jack on the 
back of the neck with a blade of grass. 

Nearer and nearer the car approached, until 
its red color was faintly distinguished ; the 
two acetylene lamps threw a dazzling glare, 
to pierce the gathering gloom. 

To the surprise of both boys, it suddenly 
slackened speed, and just as it came abreast, 
halted. A stern-looking man, leaning for- 
ward, stared down at them. 

“ Great Scott!” thought Jack, with some- 
thing like a start ; “ it’s George Clayton’s 
Uncle Dan ! ” 


CHAPTER XIII 


COLONEL ELLISON TAKES A HAND 

“ Look here, boys,” exclaimed Colonel 
Ellison, in a voice that plainly indicated the 
ruffled state of his feelings, “ have you seen a 
house-boat with a party of rascally young 
scamps on board ? ” 

Quite startled at the situation in which they 
so unexpectedly found themselves, neither 
Jack nor Joe answered for an instant. 

Each was sure that the fiery Colonel would 
recognize them, and pour forth his vials of 
wrath upon their heads. 

But the gathering dusk and the ColonePs 
short-sightedness came to their rescue. 

“ What’s the matter — can't you speak?” 
demanded Colonel Ellison, impatiently. 

“ No, we haven't seen any rascally boys,” 
answered Jack, in a voice so unlike his own 
that Joe narrowly escaped a laugh. 

Colonel Ellison did not seem to notice the 
evasion of his question. 

188 


House-boat 


189 

“ A party of young scoundrels and a ras- 
cally tutor, whom I recently discharged, had 
the audacity to induce my nephew to run 
away,” he stormed, angrily. 

Jack and Joe exchanged swift glances at 
this piece of news. 

“ And it will go hard with them,” went on 
the Colonel, with a vigorous movement of his 
arm. “ How far is the river from here? ” 

“ Only a short distance,” answered Jack, 
scorning, even at the risk of possible conse- 
quences, to mislead the angry gentleman. 

“ But monsieur the Colonel,” put in the 
chauffeur, eagerly, “ze boat-house must be 
near. Ma foi ! ze man just back, he see it pass 
in ze afternoon, en route ; and we shall catch 
ze scamp before it makes ze night. Ha! Vat 
ees this ? ” 

“ Rah, rah, Thornton ! 

That’s the name ; 

And it’s the greatest, just the same ; 

And its teachers are the best ; 

And it beats out all the rest. 

Rah, rah, Thornton!” 

“ Sounds like a squeaky wheelbarrow and 
about nine croaking frogs,” said Joe. 


190 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Ripley, K-i-p-l-e-y ! 

Tear-able name ; 

We’ll rip ’em to bits — 

That’s what we claim. 

Poor, p-o-o-r R -i-p-l-e-y.” 

A half dozen boys were swinging along the 
road, singing as if every note gave them the 
greatest possible enjoyment. 

They were solid, lusty-looking chaps, and 
the house-boat boys watched them approach 
with interest. So did Colonel Ellison and his 
chauffeur. 

“ Good-evening, boys,” said the former, 
abruptly. “ Have you seen a house-boat in 
this vicinity ? ” 

“A queer-looking pile of logs?” queried 
one of the students, as the group stopped short 
and surrounded the automobile. 

“ Yes, that ees it ! ” cried Pierre, quickly. 
“ You see him — where ? ” 

“ He was on the river,” replied the spokes- 
man, with a laugh. “ Can't be very far from 
here. Your private yacht? ” 

Colonel Ellison glared very sternly over the 
rim of his glasses at the author of this auda- 
cious speech. 


House-boat 


191 


“ Ah ! ” he said ; and the tone was so 
ominous that the students were interested at 
once. 

“ If you young men will lead the way to 
the place, I’ll pay you for the service,” con- 
tinued Colonel Ellison, coldly. “ My nephew 
is aboard that boat, associating with a parcel 
of young rascals, who have no better way of 
using their time than to be cavorting along 
the river in a shackly mud-scow.” 

“ Awful — terrible — frightful,” murmured 
the student, nudging his neighbor in the ribs. 
“ Run away from home, has he ? Hello, you 
two chaps ! Thought you were a couple of 
statues — you stood so still.” 

“ Hello yourself,” came in Jack’s weak 
falsetto. 

“ Same here,” said Joe, in his heaviest 
tones. 

“ Belong around these parts ? ” 

“ Belong where our feet find us,” said Joe. 

“ But ze boat-house,” interrupted Pierre. 
“ Ma foi — if you no hurry, Monsieur le 
Colonel, ze scamp have ze time to give you 
what you call it, ze slip — ees that not it?” 

“ You are right, Pierre,” said Colonel 


192 


The Rambler Club’s 


Ellison, with dignity. “ We are fortunate to 
have met these young gentlemen. That 
rascally tutor will find that he made a mis- 
take. If it is possible, I shall make an exam- 
ple of him. Show us the house-boat, please.” 

“ I say,” whispered Joe, “ did you ever hear 
of such mean luck ? These chaps are going 
to get us in a peck o’ trouble. What’s to be 
done?” 

“ Face the music and toot a little, to help it 
along,” said Jack, calmly. 

“ It’s going to be a lively tune while it 
lasts, I’ll bet,” grinned Joe. “ Let’s make a 
flank movement, and by the time they get 
there, we’ll be out in the river a bit.” 

“ But how about George and the others ? ” 
asked Jack, in perplexed tones. 

“ You’ve got me there, Jack ; but come on, 
or that crowd will be away ahead of us in no 
time.” 

Already Colonel Ellison’s tall form was fol- 
lowing the students. 

Pierre Dufour, leaning back on the cush- 
ioned seat, rubbed his hands with satisfaction, 
and murmured, “ Ma foi, we have it, zis boat- 
house, yes.” 


House- boat 


»93 

The academy boys had again taken up 
their jolly refrain ; and soon their forms 
were lost to view in the dim and silent 
woods. 

Jack and Joe found that their plan of 
executing a side movement was much more 
difficult than they had imagined. Neither 
was sure of the way, and the woods were now 
very dark. An astonishing number of ob- 
structions seemed to spring up on all sides. 
Joe tripped over a fallen log and fell in the 
midst of a mass of bushes ; Jack ran full tilt 
against a low-hanging branch, and soon they 
were floundering about in suqh a dense growth 
of underbrush that J£dk iialted. 

“ What silly chumps to come in here ! ” he 
exclaimed, impatiently. “ If those mean 
lobsters weren’t nearly yelling their heads 
off, I’d never know what direction they 
took.” 

“ Fierce lot of trees and stuff,” grumbled 
Joe. “ Come within a foot of these vines and 
they make a grab for a fellow.” 

“ And that branch swooped down and 
banged me on purpose,” grinned Jack. 
“ Aren’t we in a mess, all tangled up in the 


194 The Rambler Club’s 

woods ? Redfern's going to catch fits ; and 
I guess George will be yanked back to 
Nyack.” 

“And just on account of those silly rah- 
rahs,” growled Joe. “ Say, did you notice 
that chap, Bates? ” 

“ Who could help it, with such a looking 
face ? ” 

“ Like that smile of his ? ” 

“ I've seen scowls I liked better.” 

Joe laughed. 

“So have I,” he said. “But, by jinks, 
look ! ” 

“ What at?” 

“ Why, don't you see ? There's the river — 
the wide, wet river, and just back of those 
trees, too.” 

“ I believe you're right.” 

“ Of course I am.” 

And Joe, in desperation, literally forced his 
way through a mass of bushes, with Jack close 
at his heels. 

Breathing hard, and bearing numerous 
scratches, as a result of their encounter with 
twigs, brambles and stickers, the two at length 
reached the shore, and saw, to their great sat- 


House-boat 


l 95 

isfaction, that it extended on either hand in a 
clear stretch. 

“ And there's the ‘ Gray Gull,' " cried Jack. 
“ Redfern has lighted the lanterns. Run like 
the dickens, Joe ; and we may get there by 
the time the row starts." 

Both boys were good runners ; and they 
dashed ahead pell-mell. 

Soon they saw seven dusky figures emerge 
from the woods just ahead and make straight 
toward the house-boat. Colonel Ellison was 
now stalking pompously in the lead. 

Another hard spurt ; and Jack and Joe 
dashed up just as the Colonel's stentorian 
voice rang out. 

“ Hey, you on board that scow, step outside! 
I have a few words to say to you." 


CHAPTER XIV 


“ THAT CHAFFER FELLOW 

“ Ma foi, I hope that monsieur the Colonel 
finds that scamp,” murmured Pierre Dufour, 
for the tenth time. “ It was for him that 
George run away ; and for him that he insult 
me ; and for him that he say ‘ fired ’ — ‘ fired ’ 
to me. Bah ! And what does monsieur the 
Colonel say ? He say, ‘ Pierre, you have done 
well ; I make you my compliments/ A la 
bonne heure.” 

And Pierre sank back, and gazed fixedly 
toward the woods. 

Soon the wait became monotonous ; and, 
thinking that beyond the road might lead 
toward the river, where he could get a sight 
of the house-boat, Pierre gave the starting 
lever a pull, and the big red touring car was 
again in motion. 

Gliding slowly ahead, the chauffeur sud- 
denly heard the sound of voices, and, on look- 
ing around, saw several shadowy figures ap- 
196 


House-boat 


*97 


proaching. He did not need to see their faces 
in order to know that they were boys. They 
seemed to be in high spirits. 

In a few moments, the glare from the acety- 
lene lamps revealed a number of good-natured 
faces staring into his own. 

“ Oh, look who’s here ! ” cried one. 

“ Good-evening, chaffer,” said another. 

“ Where are you bound for, show-fear?” 
chimed in a third. 

Pierre stopped the machine, and shrugged 
his shoulders in characteristic French fashion. 

“ Ma foi, but these American boys are a 
lively lot,” he commented to himself ; then 
aloud : “ You have not, I suppose, seen a boat- 
house near here ? ” 

“ A boat-house ? ” queried one. 

“ Ma foi ! Yes. I am seeking a boy ; he 
run away from home — oh, such a fine home — 
and join a party of scamps on a boat-house. 
But monsieur his guardian, he ” 

A hearty burst of laughter interrupted him, 
and another peal brought a gleam into 
Pierre’s black eyes. 

“ For why you laugh ? ” he demanded, sus- 
piciously. 


198 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Because, chaffer,” said one, “ you made 
a little slip.” 

“ A little slip ? I no slip ; what you mean ? ” 

“ In plain, unadulterated, unvarnished Eng- 
lish, chaffer, we say, if I grasp your meaning 
aright, a 4 house-boat.’ ” 

The giggles broke forth again. 

“ Ah, ees that it? We say not like that in 
Frangais ; ma foi, no. I would, in la belle 
France, be driving an automobile rouge ; and 
the boy, he go off on a boat-house,” muttered 
Pierre, shaking his head. 

“ So you’re after the kid to take him back 
with you, eh ? ” 

“ Yes ; to-night he sit here, and whiz — it is 
to Nyack he go.” 

“ What did he run away for? ” 

“ Because he knows not what is good for 
himself.” 

“ Well, if we meet the lad, we’ll tell him 
where to find you,” laughed one of the boys. 

hV No, no — ma foi, no!” cried Pierre, in 
alarm* as he made an emphatic gesticulation. 
“ No, no — make not like that ! ” 

But his only answer was another loud burst 
of laughter ; and, singing a college refrain, the 


House-boat 


199 


boys resumed their march, while the chauf- 
feur, wishing that he had not spoken quite so 
freely, started his machine again. 

The road, however, did not approach the 
river, and, fearing that the Colonel might re- 
turn, Pierre soon turned, and within a few min- 
utes was back at the starting point, again 
staring at the dark line of woods. 

Suddenly he heard a sound which made 
him start to his feet with an exclamation of 
alarm. 

Over the still air, from the direction of the 
river, came a faint call for help ; and Pierre’s 
nerves tingled with excitement, as he strained 
his ears to catch a repetition. 

“ Ma foi ! Monsieur the Colonel — I think 
it ees his voice ! ” he cried aloud, in agitated 
tones. 

“ Help ! ” 

This time, Pierre was sure of it. With a 
wild shout, he sprang to the ground and 
dashed across the road, then headlong 
through the thicket, his form soon disappear- 
ing amidst the trees. 

Like some huge monster guarding the high- 
way, the red touring car, now dusky and gray 


200 


The Rambler Club’s 


in the gloom, sent its acetylene glare stream- 
ing over a silent and deserted road. 

But it was not for long. George Clayton, 
whistling merrily, accompanied by the others, 
came along at a brisk pace. 

“ Hello ! ” cried George, as he espied the 
car. “ Wonder if anything’s the matter? 
There’s no one in it. Looks like a good ma- 
chine, too ; eh, Aleck ? ” 

“ A dandy ; kind of fanny to leave it stand- 
ing here. Maybe something’s basted, and 
the choofer has gone off after tools.” 

“ Chauffeur, you mean,” corrected George. 

“ Sure — that’s what I said. He wouldn’t — 
what’s the matter ? ” 

“Goodness gracious! Also, did I ever 
know the beat ! ” cried George, his voice 
trembling with excitement. “ Well, of all 
things ! ” 

“ What’s the matter? ” 

“ Matter enough ; this is Uncle Dan’s, or, 
rather, my car — my car ; do you understand ? 
— my car.” 

“ Your car ? ” 

“ As sure as you live ; and I might have 
run right into Uncle Dan before I knew it. 


House-boat 


201 


Whew! Let’s skip, fellows. Gee whiz, what 
a narrow escape ! Who would have thought 
of his being right here ? I expected he’d be 
coming along, too ; yet — say — I’ll bet ” 

“ Bet what?” 

“ That Uncle Dan and Pierre have discov- 
ered the house-boat.” 

“ And I guess you are right,” said Bob, 
with a long breath. “ Why else should they 
have left the machine just here? This is 
about where we came through the woods.” 

“ Did you ever hear of meaner luck in your 
life?” cried George, his eyes flashing with 
anger. “ I declare ! I’m no two year old, to 
be dragged back home ; and I won’t be, 
either.” 

All the obstinate, combative spirit in 
George’s nature was aroused, and, as he 
pictured Pierre Dufour’s triumph, he paced 
up and down and clenched his fists. 

“ But how could they tell that the 1 Gray 
Gull’ was there?” murmured Tom. “ You 
can’t see the river.” 

“ It beats me,” answered George, in puzzled 
tones. “ Mighty lucky we stumbled across 
the car, or else I should have walked right up 


202 


The Rambler Club’s 


and found Uncle Dan waiting to receive me 
with open arms.” 

“ What’s to be done ? ” yawned Dave. 

“ Lie low. They’ll have to be pretty smart 
to catch me. I haven’t done anything wrong 
— tried my best to tell Uncle Dan about the 
trip, and he cut me short. Then what did he 
say about Jack Lyons’ father — ‘ A good 
lawyer and useful citizen.’ Of course I 
was surprised to find Redfern aboard ; but 
he’s a dandy chap, and I wouldn’t hurt his 
feelings by backing out — no, sir.” 

George spoke in a rapid, excited manner 
which showed the disturbed condition of his 
feelings, all the time keeping a watchful eye 
open for any signs of his uncle and Pierre. 

Suddenly, boyish voices, raised as though 
an animated discussion was in progress, 
reached their ears. 

“ Look out,” cautioned George. 

“ Just a lot of young chaps,” said Bob, re- 
assuringly. 

“ I knew you were taking us about a mile 
out of our way, Bill Stiles,” cried a voice. 
“ Felt it in my legs, I did. Hang the luck, 
I'm so tired now, I can hardly move.” 


House-boat 


203 


“ If you knew so much about it, why didn’t 
you set us right, Roy Pinger?” demanded 
another, loudly. 

“ Because Bill Stiles said he knew the way 
— that’s why.” 

“Say, why doesn’t the whole crowd jump 
on me at once ? If I hadn’t kept my eyes 
open, you’d be strutting ahead now.” 

“ Oh, Jiminy ! what a whopper, Bill Stiles. 
Bet you don’t know anything about it. Hello 
— there’s that chaffer fellow out here yet.” 

“ He must have nabbed the lad on ze boat- 
house ; and oh, how please monsieur the Colo- 
nel will be ! Oh, I say, chaffer, did you get 
him? ” 

“ Gee whiz, listen to that ! They must 
have been talking to Pierre ! ” exclaimed 
George, turning excitedly toward the new- 
comers. “ Look here, you chaps,” he contin- 
ued, “ what do you know about this ? ” 

“ Why, where’s the shoofur ? ” asked one. 

“ Has the show-fear skipped ? ” said an- 
other. “ Hello, you fellows — belong around 
here ? ” 

“ No, we don’t,” answered George, shortly. 
“ You met the chap who runs this car, eh ? ” 


204 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Surest thing you know. Monsieur the 
Colonel sent him after a lad who ran off on a 
boat-house, and ” 

“ You don’t mean to say that he was 
alone ? ” queried George, in astonishment. 

“ Sure he was,” replied the other, appar- 
ently surprised at the rich boy’s manner. 

George Clayton whistled ; and then, as if 
feeling that it might not be wise to let the 
others know too much, broke into a laugh. 

“ I suppose he’s over by the river, hunting 
for the poor chap, eh ? ” 

Bill Stiles looked at the rich boy earnestly. 

“ Bill,” he said, very calmly, “ you know 
something about this. The chaffer says, 
1 Whiz ; it is back to Nyack he go.’ ” 

“ The choofer said that, did he? ” exclaimed 
Aleck Hunt. 

“ Yes ; that’s what the chaffer remarked, 
Bill number two. Get your legs a-moving, 
Roy Pinger.” 

“ Say, you’re kind of fresh, aren’t you ? ” 
said George, quizzically. 

“ The salt of the earth are always fresh. 
So-long, Bill ! Whiz ! Look out for monsieur 
the chaffer — whiz — which way is it, Roy 


House-boat 


205 


Pinger? Whiz — through the woods, eh? 
All right — toddle,” and, laughing and jesting, 
the party of students made across the road. 

“ Well,” exclaimed George, as he gazed 
after their retreating forms, “ did you ever 
hear of such a piece of nerve in your life as 
Pierre thinking he could come out here alone 
and yank me back? Just think of it! I’m 
surprised at Uncle Dan — ab-so-lute-ly aston- 
ished ; but I’m going to teach that nervy 
chauffeur a jolly good lesson.” 

“ He needs it the worst way,” approved 
Bob. “ And the cheek of him, telling all 
those chaps about you.” 

“ What are you going to do ? ” asked Fred 
Winter, with interest. “ Listen — is that any 
one cornin’ ? ” 

The boys strained their ears, but heard 
nothing save a faint rustling caused by the 
fitful breeze. 

“ Pierre Dufour has just a little bit of a 
walk ahead of him,” went on George, speak- 
ing rapidly. “ This is my machine, bought 
with my own coin ; and if you chaps want a 
dandy ride, jump in.” 

“ What? ” gasped Fred Winter. 


206 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Why not?” 

“ That’s a bully idea,” laughed Aleck 
Hunt. “ I’ll go, all right. Know how to run 
the machine? ” 

“ I can start and stop it,” answered George ; 
“ and talk a streak about carburetors, spark 
plugs and steering gears ; and if nothing 
busts, and it stays face up, I’m all right. 
Jump in. That silly chump may be nosing 
back any minute — quick ! Want to go, 
Somers ? ” 

Bob shook his head, and asked : 

“ How about the other boys ? ” 

“ We can leave the car in a garage some- 
where and look out for ’em. I’ll bet Pierre 
is over by the house-boat now ; and you 
wouldn’t catch me falling into any trap.” 

“ You two fellows go,” said Fred, solemnly, 
“ and we’ll walk back. It’s going to be a fine 
night to look at the moon, and ” 

“ That settles it,” laughed Aleck. 

He jumped in beside George, who already 
had his hand on the steering wheel. 

“ Sure you won’t take a ride, Dave ? ” asked 
the millionaire boy, fairly bubbling over with 
impatience. 


House-boat 


2°7 

“ No, thanks ; that nice chair in the house- 
boat appeals to me.” 

“ You, Tommy ? ” 

But Tom didn’t feel like going without the 
others, and declined regretfully. 

u Awfully sorry ; but if you won’t accept 
the treat that settles it,” said George, waving 
his hand. “ This will be a great joke on fiery 
Pierre ; and a good lesson besides. So-long ! 
What’s that ? Sure — look out for the two of 
us anywhere along the line. Bye, bye ! ” 
And almost before the boys realized it the 
big car was in motion. 

By this time the moon was just above the 
eastern horizon, and already its silvery radi- 
ance was stealing over the landscape. The 
sky was a deep gray blue, and not a cloud 
dotted its surface. 

The two boys in the auto saw the pale white 
road extending off in an almost straight line ; 
back of them the distant hills rose dim and 
ghostly against the sky, while over the broad 
expanse of gently rolling country lights 
sparkled in various farmhouses. Far above, 
a night-hawk screamed its way in a circling 
flight, and from the woods came the melan- 


208 


The Rambler Club’s 


choly hoot of an owl. It was a scene that 
awakened the admiration of both boys, and, 
as the soft breeze fanned their cheeks, they 
enjoyed it and the swift, gliding motion to 
the full. 

What George lacked in skill as a chauffeur 
he made up in recklessness. Soon the fields 
and the trees and the white road became a 
confused blurr. His eyes danced with excite- 
ment, and he put on still greater speed. Faster 
— faster raced the touring car, until Aleck 
Hunt began to grow dizzy. 

A bridge flashed by ; then tall trees seemed 
to spring up like warning sentinels on either 
hand, and the road became a blotch of grim 
shadows and silver lights. 

By the side of a sycamore, whose spreading 
foliage entirely hid the moon from view, 
George slackened speed. 

“ Can go some, eh ? ” said the boy, breath- 
lessly. 

“ You bet,” answered Aleck, a trifle bewil- 
dered. “ Gee whiz ! Just like being in a cup 
race.” 

“ And it isn’t anything to what it can do.” 

“ Perfectly stunning, anyway — dandy ; but 


House-boat 


209 

if we went a bit slower, we’d see the scenery 
better,” said Aleck, ingeniously. 

“ That’s so,” admitted George. “ Don’t I 
wish I could catch a glimpse of Pierre’s face 
when he finds the machine gone — ha, ha ! I 
can’t get over it. If Uncle Dan had been 

along, I wouldn’t have done it — but ” 

and George’s teeth shut together with a 
snap. 

The woods were soon passed, and a little 
later, lights gleaming ahead and a soft, hazy 
patch in the sky indicated that they were ap- 
proaching a town. 

“ Must be Newburgh,” remarked George. 
“ And say, this is such jolly good fun, I have 
an idea.” 

“ What is it?” 

“ Stop over night in the town, and early to- 
morrow start for Poughkeepsie. Fred and 
the Ramblers will tell the boys we’re all right, 
eh?” 

“ It’s a great thought,” said Aleck, enthusi- 
astically. “ A dandy time ahead of us — 
hooray ! ” 

“ That’s what I think, too,” laughed 
George. 


210 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Now we’ll swing along gently, so that no 
lynx-eyed constable will greet us with open 
arms.” 

Here and there a house was passed. Soon 
they became more numerous, and, finally, the 
car was pounding slowly along the streets of 
Newburgh. 

It was still early ; the shops were brightly 
lighted, and in the business section, quite a 
crowd ebbed and flowed along the sidewalks. 
The experience was a novel one to Aleck 
Hunt, and he wondered at the ease and cool- 
ness with which his companion steered the 
big machine around wagons and out of the 
way of electric cars. 

“ Oh, this isn’t the first time I’ve done it,” 
laughed George, apparently divining his 
thoughts. “ Once or twice I have been in 
pretty tight places, too. Look at that silly 
chump turning in ahead of us. He never 
stopped to see where he was going. That’s the 
kind of thing which often takes up a couple 
of inches’ space in the newspapers. Whoa, 
boy! Just grazed his wheel. There’s a ga- 
rage over on the other side of the street, Aleck. 
We might leave the machine ; then for some- 


House-boat 211 

thing to eat, and a nice room in the best hotel 
in town.” 

“ All right,” grinned Aleck. “This is more 
fun than looking at a few little specks o’ light. 
Those other chaps certainly missed it.” 

George quickly made arrangements to have 
his machine housed at the garage, and, in a 
few minutes, the boys were off searching for 
a hotel. 

One to their liking was found in the upper 
part of the town, and they were soon enjoying 
a good meal in ease and comfort. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE COLONEL SPEAKS HIS MIND 

At the sound of Colonel Ellison’s familiar 
voice Norman Redfern, whittling a piece of 
wood in the cabin, sprang to his feet and 
stepped out on deck. 

The sudden appearance of the Colonel was 
quite the greatest surprise he had experienced 
in many a day ; and when he saw a half 
dozen boys, this was still another. 

“ See here, Redfern,” thundered Colonel 
Ellison, with an emphatic wave of his arm, 
“ what do you think of yourself? Such a 
miserable piece of conduct ; such a down- 
right, underhanded scheme of paltry revenge 
is beyond my comprehension. I could have 
the law on you ! ” 

“ Why — what have I done ? ” stammered 
Norman, altogether taken aback by the sud- 
den attack, and embarrassed by the snickers 
of the students. 

“ What have you done — you have the 
212 


House-boat 


213 


audacity to stand there and calmly ask me 

that? Well ” the Colonel brought his 

right fist down in the palm of his left hand 
with a resounding smack, and glanced at the 
group of boys, as if to say, “ Just listen to 
that.” 

“ He’s got his nerve with him, all right,” 
said Bates, unable to conceal his pleasure. 

If there was any row under way, Bates 
could be depended upon to help it along. 

“ I will tell you, then,” stormed Colonel 
Ellison. “ When you found your whines and 
wretched excuses were of no avail ” 

“ Pardon me, Colonel Ellison, I made no 
excuses,” interrupted Redfern, his face flush- 
ing. 

“ Now this is what I call a real interesting 
conversation,” said Bates. 

“ What did you do ? ” went on the Colonel, 
without heeding these interruptions. “ You 
induced my ward to join a gang of rascally, 
irresponsible boys, who are idling away their 
time in a miserable mud-scow. A fine thing 
for a man of your age to be with such a 
crowd.” 

“Simply awful,” said Bates. 


214 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ You are mistaken, Colonel Ellison,” said 
Redfern, and there was a certain ring in the 
ex-tutor’s voice which the Colonel had never 
heard in it before. 

“ Do you have the effrontery to deny it ? ” 

“ I’ll bet he will,” came from Bates. “ He’s 
tipping a wink to those chaps in back.” 

Jack Lyons stepped forward. 

“ I know all about this affair,” he re- 
marked, calmly. “ Redfern had nothing to 
do with it. He tried to make George go 
back home, and ” 

“ I’ve heard that voice before,” exclaimed 
the angry Colonel. “ Boy, where have I seen 
you ? ” 

The speaker gazed searchingly at Jack 
Lyons, whose face was clearly revealed by 
the moonlight, and almost instantly added, 
“ Why, you’re the very boy who was in my 
house, and — didn’t I see you on the road just 
a few minutes ago ? ” 

“ Yes, sir ! ” 

“ Ah ! And you saw fit to change your 
voice, eh? and actually had the impudence 
to tell me you hadn’t even seen a house- 
boat?” 


House-boat 


21 5 


“ Sad, very sad case,” observed Bates. 

“ I beg pardon, Colonel ; I said I hadn't 
seen any rascally boys, and that’s the truth.” 

“ You are one of the young scamps your- 
self,” thundered Colonel Ellison. “ I sup- 
pose, Redfern, you will even deny that George 
was on the boat ? ” 

“ You ought to know me better than that, 
sir.” 

“ He’s losing his nerve,” said Bates. 

“ Well, just understand, Redfern, that if I 
ever catch you having anything more to do 
with my nephew I shall seek redress through 
the law. George will go back with me to- 
night, and ” 

“ A mighty good thing for George, too,” re- 
marked the irresponsible Bates. 

“ I have given orders that you shall never 
be allowed to enter my grounds again. Do 
you understand me ? ” 

“ You have done me an injustice in one 
case, and are repeating it in another.” 

“ Injustice ? Fiddlesticks ! You are a 
cowardly, underhanded scoundrel. For all 
I know, my ward may be hiding inside at 
this very moment.” 


216 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Wouldn’t surprise me a bit, sir,” said 
Bates. '‘I’d search the house from cellar to 
garret.” 

“ Hey, you smart duck,” interposed Jack. 
“ You’re throwing your words around pretty 
fast, now aren’t you ? ” 

“ What’s that? ” demanded Bates. His ex- 
asperating grin grew broader ; he stuffed his 
hands in his pockets and said, “ What’s that ? ” 
again, in a much louder and shriller key ; and, 
as Jack made no response, continued, “ Salt 
water might take some of the freshness out of 
you — this water is salt.” 

“ Is it ? ” said Jack. 

“It is — to reverse your words,” returned 
Bates. 

“ If you don’t stop that grin pretty soon,” 
said Jack, solemnly, “ it may get frozen on 
your face.” 

Bates opened his mouth to make a reply, 
but Colonel Ellison interposed. 

“ Enough of this silly bantering,” he said, 
sternly. “ George ! ” he raised his voice — “if 
you are in that boat, I command you to come 
out ! ” 

“ Ah, the plot thickens,” said Bates. 


House-boat 


217 

“ Redfern, bring that mud-scow further in- 
shore,” went on the Colonel, sharply. 

“ George is not on board ; my word must be 
sufficient.” 

Colonel Ellison stared at the speaker in un- 
concealed astonishment. He had felt a sort 
of grim triumph in the thought of forcing the 
mild-mannered young man to execute his 
commands. But something of the spirit of 
Jack Lyons seemed to have been aroused 
within Norman Redfern, and he returned his 
former employer’s gaze unflinchingly. 

“ You absolutely defy me, then ? ” cried the 
Colonel, furiously. 

“ Oh, he’s a sly one,” said Bates. “ The 
water’s deep enough here ; you mustn’t let 
him fool you, sir.” 

“ And he won’t. Once more, Redfern, will 
you bring that boat close ashore? ” 

“ You can come over in the dory.” 

“ A nice way to talk,” said Bates. “ But 
don’t get in a cranky little boat like that, sir. 
Not one of us would think of risking it ; you’d 
be upset sure — hello ! Didn’t I hear a sound 
inside the boat — listen ! ” 

Sure enough ; something had evidently 


2 18 


The Rambler Club’s 


dropped to the floor ; then came a repetition 
of the sound. 

“ It’s as certain as you’re knee-high to a 
grasshopper, there’s some one inside ! ” cried 
Bates, excitedly. 

He walked quickly past a tree to the edge 
of the steep bank, stopping at a position which 
afforded a good view into the brightly lighted 
cabin. 

“ See anything? ” queried one of the students. 

“Kind of,” was the rather non-committal 
response. 

Colonel Ellison stepped hastily forward and 
paused by the student’s side. 

“ Redfern,” he began, sternly, “ I ” 

Then, without warning, a curious thing 
happened. 

The bank suddenly began to slide away 
beneath their combined weight. Bates gave a 
wild cry of alarm, and scrambled to safety, 
while Colonel Ellison, finding himself going 
down amidst an avalanche of dirt, sticks and 
stones, frantically threw his arms above his 
head. His hands closed tightly over the tree’s 
lowest branch, and the next instant the 
doughty Colonel was suspended over the water, 


House-boat 


219 

with the branch slowly dipping down beneath 
his weight. 

“ Help ! ” he yelled, in an amazingly loud 
voice, holding to his frail support with the 
grip of despair. 

“ Good land ! ” cried Bates. 

“ Much needed,” said another. 

“ Help ! Don’t stand around like a lot of 
addlepates ! ” shouted the Colonel, furiously. 

Several feet of the bank, splashing into the 
water, had sent forth a succession of rollers. 
The victim’s dangling legs could find no 
support, and each instant, fearful that the 
branch might break, Colonel Ellison could 
only look at the dark, lapping water just 
below and anticipate the dreadful moment 
when he would be immersed. 

It was certainly a strange spectacle in the 
moonlight to see the usually dignified Colonel 
dangling from the limb like a fish at the end 
of a line; and when the first moment of sur- 
prise and alarm had passed, several very 
suspicious gurgles came from the students. 

Jack Lyons was the first to take action. 
The second tremendous blow from the Colo- 
nel’s fog-horn voice had scarcely ceased echo- 


220 


The Rambler Club’s 

ing, when, with a cheery, “ Hang on tight, 
sir,” he jumped into the dory, quickly untied 
it, and paddled in Indian fashion toward the 
victim, whose feet were now almost touching 
the water. 

“ Hurry ! ” gasped Colonel Ellison, despair- 
ingly. “ I can’t’ hold on much longer.” 

“ All right, sir ! ” 

The boat glided beneath his feet. 

“ Be careful,” said Jack. “ Steady — don’t 
let go till I say the word.” 

He reached up, bore his weight upon the 
limb, and the Colonel’s feet soon rested upon 
the bottom of the boat. 

“ Take your time, sir — easy now.” 

But the Colonel was in too excited a frame 
of mind to heed this advice, and only Jack’s 
watchfulness and care prevented a catastrophe. 

“ Rest your hand on my shoulder, sir,” said 
the boy. “ I’ll steady her — look out ! ” 

For an instant it looked as if the Colonel 
would upset them both. Advice and sug- 
gestions came in a steady stream from the 
shore. 

“ Don’t be afraid, sir; if you fall in, we’ll 
fish you out,” yelled Bates, encouragingly. 



HANG ON TIGHT, SIR” 






















' 



























House-boat 


221 


But Jack’s skilful efforts finally tri- 
umphed, and Colonel Ellison was landed 
safely on shore. 

Perhaps never before had so many conflict- 
ing emotions surged through his brain. He 
was conscious that he had cut a very sorry 
figure before the much despised tutor; and 
the mirthful chuckles and grinning faces 
which the moonlight disclosed added to his 
feelings of wrath and mortification. He owed 
a debt of gratitude to Jack Lyons, yet he could 
not force his lips to frame the words which 
he knew the boy deserved. 

While in this very uncomfortable state of 
mind, there was a crashing among the under- 
brush some distance off, and the group saw 
a slim figure dashing madly toward them. 

“ Pierre ! ” gasped Colonel Ellison. 

The chauffeur, who seemed about to hurl 
himself bodily upon the foremost, stopped 
short, breathless and panting, and stared wild- 
eyed at the group before him. 

“ Monsieur the Colonel, Monsieur le Colonel, 
I had such fear,” he stammered. “ Such 
fear ! ” he placed his hand over his heart ; “ I 
hear you cry, ‘ Au secours ! 7 and I run, oh, 


222 


The Rambler Club’s 


how I run ! Ah, I had such fear — but you 
no hurt, eh ? ” 

Pierre’s words came out in a series of jerks, 
and he stood quite still, as if the shock yet 
gripped his heart. 

Bates whistled. 

“ Certainly I am not hurt, Pierre ! ” ex- 
claimed Colonel Ellison, his tone indicating 
a great lack of appreciation for his chauffeur’s 
solicitude. 

“ Ah, then I am content, monsieur the Colo- 
nel ; I had such fear — for why you ” 

“ You should never have left the automo- 
bile, Pierre,” said the Colonel, hastily. 

“ But your voice ; it came over ze air 
like ” 

“ A steam whistle in distress.” 

“ And I say, ‘ Ze Colonel, he must need 
me.’ ” 

“ Horrible carelessness, anyhow,” said Bates. 
“ I’d give him a piece of my mind. But, if 
you please, sir, don’t you think there’s some 
one hiding inside that house-boat? You 
heard a noise yourself. What’s that over 
there?” 

Norman Redfern was holding up a small 


House-boat 


223 

object which emitted several plaintive squeaks 
and tried to wriggle out of his grasp. 

“ The pup was on the table, and knocked 
off a couple of pieces of wood,” he explained. 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Bates, sadly disappointed. 

“ Go right back, Pierre,” commanded Colo- 
nel Ellison, with a frown. “ Such a val- 
uable machine should never be left for an in- 
stant.” 

“ Of course it shouldn’t,” remarked Bates. 

“Very good, monsieur the Colonel; I go,” 
said Pierre, bowing. “ Ah, but I had fear ! 
Ma foi, but I no understand why you ” 

“ That will do, Pierre — go ! ” thundered 
Colonel Ellison ; and the chauffeur turned 
away sadly puzzled. 

“ When George returns,” remarked the 
Colonel, grimly, “ he will find me here.” 

“ And now,” said Bates, “ this little party 
is entirely composed of pleasant people. Let 
us introduce each of us to the other ; fellows, 
step up. Don’t be afraid — light isn’t strong 
enough to show your faces very well. Colonel 
— Ralph Chickers, sometimes known as 
‘Chickens’; Ben Drayton; Tom Allen — he’s 
only done one sensible thing in his life — 


224 


The Rambler Club’s 

entered Thornton Preparatory School ; here's 
Sam Wilde, and, last and least, Ban Twin- 
ing.” 

“ Like fun," came from the owner of that 
name. 

“ Of course I do," said Bates. 

Jack Lyons and Joe Preston entered into 
the jolly spirit of the students ; but Colonel 
Ellison, like an avenging nemesis, kept aloof, 
his tall, gaunt figure moving almost silently 
up and down the bank, stopping only now 
and then to listen intently to any suspicious 
sounds which came from the woods. 

Bates seemed astonished to learn that Nor- 
man Redfern was a graduate of Ripley. 

“ H’m," he sniffed. “ I can tell by your 
voice that you hate to admit it. Why, we're 
kind of looking after a lot of foolish Ripley 
chaps now. Guess at this very minute they 
must be doing the babes in the woods act. 
What's that?" 

A voice came floating over the silent air ; 
its tone of anguish and utter despair made 
them look at each other in alarm. 

“ Monsieur the Colonel, monsieur the Colo- 
nel, it's gone l " 


House-boat 


225 

“ Gone ! ” cried Colonel Ellison, with a 
start. “ What does the man mean ? ” 

“ Looks like another circus coming,” 
grinned Bates, in delight. 

The crashing amidst the underbrush grew 
louder, and Pierre presently emerged, waving 
his arms even more furiously than before, 
while his agonized spirit poured itself forth 
in a series of wails. 

“ Monsieur the Colonel, he — it — has gone ! ” 
he gasped. “ Gone ! ” 

“ What ? ” roared the Colonel. “The ma- 
chine gone? — it can’t be possible ! ” 

“ That’s what I say, monsieur the Colonel. 
I run both ways on ze road, but I nevaire see 
him ; it’s gone ! ” and Pierre wrung his hands 
in despair. 

“ Ah, ha ! ” said Bates. 

“ Gee whiz ! ” cried Jack Lyons. “ Come 
ahead, fellows ! ” 

“ More excitement, eh ? ” chimed in Joe, as 
he followed Jack. 

Without a word, Colonel Ellison strode 
toward the woods ; his face wore a terrible 
frown, and with one look he completely 
silenced the unhappy chauffeur. 


226 The Rambler Club’s 


Jack Lyons and Joe Preston reached the 
road with the students. 

“ Yep,” said Bates. “ Not a sign of it. Oh, 
what a row I feel coming.” 

In a moment, Colonel Ellison and Pierre 
burst out of the wood, the former almost 
winded by his unusual exertions. 

The pale moonlit road, as far as it could be 
seen, was deserted. No sound but the lowing 
of a cow away off in the distance broke the 
silence. 

“ Gone ! ” cried the Colonel, in a terrible 
voice. 

“ Gone ! ” echoed Pierre, weakly. 

“ You stupid jackanapes,” shouted Colonel 
Ellison, now completely overcome with wrath. 
“ This is a pretty kettle of fish — a valuable 
machine stolen, and we stranded here on a 
lonely country road, miles from anywhere — 
a fine muddle you've put us in ! How dare 
you look me in the face ? ” 

“ Oh, monsieur the Colonel.” 

“ Don't moo-seer the Colonel me ! ” roared 
the angry gentleman, beginning to pace ex- 
citedly up and down. 

“ It's terrible,” said Bates, after some mo- 


House-boat 


227 


ments had elapsed. “ You’ll never see that 
whizzer again. Fine autos can’t be plucked 
from trees.” 

“ Monsieur the Colonel,” pleaded the un- 
happy chauffeur, “ I hear you cry, ‘ au 
secour ’ ; and I say ” 

“ Silence ! ” thundered his master. “ Red- 
fern is responsible for this. He shall ” 

“ What’s that noise ? ” interrupted Bates, 
holding up his hand with the greatest assur- 
ance. “ Listen, sir ! It sounds exactly as if 
the house-boat was putting off. Hello ; those 
two chaps belonging to it have disappeared ; 
that settles it — they are giving you the slip. 
Bet your ward is on the old pile of logs, after 
all, and you’re jolly well left again, sir.” 

A distinct, though faint pulsation had sud- 
denly started up. 

“ Come with us, sir,” yelled Bates, “ and 
we’ll chase ’em.” 

“ After the rascals ! ” roared Colonel Ellison. 
“ Very likely you are right.” 

A group of shadowy figures were soon 
struggling pell-mell through the woods, the 
boys giving their school yells. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE WAR-CALL 

“Well, I don't know that I like this,” 
murmured Fred Winter, glancing after the 
fast-departing automobile. “ Awful nervy of 
those chaps to run off that way, eh, Somers ? ” 

“ I can't blame George very much,” laughed 
Bob. “ Pierre seems in need of a good les- 
son.” 

“ And what a perfect night for a joy-ride,” 
sighed Dave. 

“ Almost wish we'd gone along with 'em,” 
added Tom. Then, as his ears suddenly 
caught the sound of distant voices, he added : 
“ Let’s catch up with those cheeky prep-school 
boys. Guess they know the way. Mighty 
easy to get twisted up in this tangle.” 

A network of fairy lights and shadows now 
streaked the ground and tree trunks, and here 
and there a rock shone strangely distinct. 
Each moment new vistas of weird beauty 
opened out before them. 

“ If there were any such things as wood- 
228 


House-boat 


229 


land sprites this would be just the place for 
’em,” said Fred, as he surveyed the scene. 
“ Ah, I see those chaps now.” 

The group had come to a halt in a small 
clearing, and the house-boat boys soon realized 
that they were in no hurry to leave. Bill 
Stiles and Roy Pinger were having another 
animated discussion. 

“ Hello !” called Bob Somers. 

Conversation stopped, and the boys, evi- 
dently taken by surprise, awaited their ap- 
proach. 

“ Why, say, you’re the chaps we saw on the 
road,” remarked Stiles, as the four came up. 
“ Where are the other two Bills ? There were 
six of you, I thought. Whiz — is it to Nyack 
they go ? Did you see the chaffer ? ” 

“ Oh, no,” laughed Bob, “ not yet.” 

“ I’m awfully glad that chap gave them the 
slip ; don’t blame him for keeping out of 
sight for a while. Say, I’d like to see that 
house-boat of yours.” 

“ We don’t even charge for looking at it.” 

“ Come ahead, Pinger ; toddle,” said Bill 
Stiles. 

“ My legs are too tired,” grumbled Roy, 


230 


The Rambler Club’s 


seating himself on a stump. “ Good thing 
we got grub in that farmhouse about ten 
miles back.” 

In a few minutes Bob and his friends 
learned that the names of the other students 
were Grigsby, Cole, Dale and Andrews. 

As they lolled around, the boys told him 
about their annual motor boat trip, and how 
on this occasion they had felt it their duty to 
look after the “ poor Thornton chaps.” 

“ You'll see 'em,” remarked Bill Stiles, 
“ and meet a mighty cheeky fellow — Lon 
Bates is his name. Ready to skip now, Pin- 
ger?” 

“ Not yet,” answered Roy. “ The charm of 
this moonlit scene holds me in its spell.” 

“ You mustn't mind him,” said Stiles, with 
a laugh. “ He's been bitten by the writing 
bug, and practices on us ; but his legs are 
weak.” 

Many minutes passed and the boys still 
lingered, until a series of yells suddenly 
brought them to their feet. 

“ Those Thornton chaps, as sure as you 
live ! ” cried Roy Pinger, excitedly. “ Lis- 
ten ! ” 


House-boat 


231 

“ Yelling again ! ” cried Stiles. “ Wonder 
if anything’s up ? We’ll soon find out.” 

The way Roy Pinger’s legs immediately 
gained strength was quite remarkable. He 
quickly took the lead, and the others crashed 
after him, the shouts coming again serving to 
guide them in the right direction. 

It was a long, hard tug, and all the boys 
were breathing heavily when they rushed 
out on the shore. Some distance away, they 
saw a group of shadowy figures surrounding 
one of the motor boats. 

Bob Somers uttered an exclamation, and so 
did the others, for a single glance told them 
that the “ Gray Gull ” was not at her moor- 
ings ; then, as a faint, but steady chug-chug 
broke upon their ears, all looked out on the 
river. 

“ Well, that’s another queer trick,” mur- 
mured Dave, puffing hard. “ Sugar ! This is 
a night of surprises, all right.” 

But Bob Somers and the others were now 
far in the lead, and all his breath and en- 
durance were needed to keep from being left 
behind. 

As the Ripley boys neared the others, they 


232 


The Rambler Club’s 


uttered several yells, and the half-defiant calls 
of the Thornton boys, like an echo, floated 
back. 

The party came to a halt just as the motor 
boat was slowly forging out into the river. 

“ What’s up with you fellows ? ” yelled Lon 
Bates, from the “ Reindeer,” his tone indicat- 
ing great astonishment. 

“ Gee whiz ! ” called Ralph Chickers. 
“ Where did you chaps pick up that bunch ? 
Are you fellows doing a Marathon ? ” 

But Stiles made no answer to these questions. 
A peculiar light came into his eyes, as he 
turned quickly toward Roy Pinger. 

“ There’s that chaffer in the boat, sure as 
you live ! ” he exclaimed. 

“ I see him,” said Roy. 

“ And that must be George Clayton’s guard- 
ian,” chimed in Fred Winter, excitedly, as he 
caught a glimpse of the Colonel’s military 
figure in the bow. 

“ H’m ; and we thought the chauffeur had 
come alone,” murmured Bob. 

“ Hurry up ! ” cried Stiles. “ The ‘ Dart’s ’ a 
faster boat than theirs ; we’ll find out what 
those duffers are up to.” 


House-boat 


2 33 

“ You bet we will ! ” yelled Roy. “ Quick, 
you chaps ! ” 

Sarcastic calls came from the Thornton 
crowd as the “ Reindeer ” drew rapidly away. 

“ Good-bye, little boys,” came in Bates’ 
loud voice. “ So sorry to leave you.” 

“ Oh, you won’t leave us, even if we have a 
big crowd aboard,” yelled Bill Stiles. “ Don’t 
worry.” 

With a rush, the lads made for the “ Dart,” 
and Fred Winter, who was as excited as he 
ever got to be, tumbled in last. 

“ Up with the anchor,” commanded Stiles, 
tersely. “ Fall all over yourself, Jim Dale,” 
he added, as the latter, in an effort to be of 
some assistance, tripped ingloriously. 

“ This is great sport, eh, my four Bills ? ” 

Stiles gave the fly-wheel several quick rev- 
olutions ; the engine responded almost in- 
stantly, and the “ Dart ” glided ahead. Soon, 
under full power, it was hastening after the 
“ Reindeer.” 

The moon shone from a cloudless sky, and 
a thousand sparkling ripples shot from the 
dark gray water. The distant shores were 
lost in haze, while the line of woods close at 


234 


The Rambler Club’s 


hand stood out in patches of impenetrable 
shadows and silvery lights. 

With her throbbing engine sending forth 
a steady stream of pulsations, the “ Dart ” cut 
swiftly through the water. It was exhila- 
rating sport, and, as Bob Somers leaned back, he 
thoroughly enjoyed the easy, gliding motion. 

Far ahead, but a mere, uncertain patch of 
dark with two tiny specks of light, was the 
“ Gray Gull.” 

“ I can’t understand it,” murmured Fred, 
in perplexity. “ Wonder why those chaps put 
off ; and what in the dickens George’s guard- 
ian is chasing them for ? ” 

“ We’ll soon know,” laughed Bob. 

The faces of the Ripley boys shone with ex- 
citement, for this was a splendid opportunity 
to have some fun with their rivals. 

“ Those foolish Thornton chaps have been 
getting altogether too fresh lately,” commented 
Bill Stiles. “ To-night, the Ripley seniors 
will teach ’em another lesson.” 

“ And one they won’t forget in a hurry,” 
chimed in Roy Pinger, bubbling over with 
glee. “ Bates will think his old ‘ Reindeer ’ 
is moving backward.” 


House-boat 


23 5 


“ That Colonel and the chaffer want to get 
on your house-boat, my four Bills, ” remarked 
Stiles, presently. “And our job ” 

“ Is to show the Thornton chaps they can’t 
put him there,” laughed Sam Grigsby. 
“ We’re gaining on ’em fast.” 

“ Only a few minutes more,” breathed Roy 
Pinger. “ Keep her a bit out, Stiles — that’s 
it — steady ! Remember, you chaps, that Rip- 
ley’s reputation is at stake.” 

“ My eye ! Don’t fear — we’re not going to 
forget it,” grinned Harry Cole. 

Steadily the swifter “ Dart ” gained on its 
rival. Already the dark forms of the “ Rein- 
deer’s ” crew began to grow more distinct. 

A loud, long and sarcastic call came over 
the intervening space. Lon Bates had a tre- 
mendous voice, and knew how to use it. 

Arousing answer was immediately returned. 
Then, with eager eyes, the boys watched the 
space between the motor boats slowly lessen- 
ing. 

“ We’re doing it now,” cried Bill Stiles, 
gleefully. “ Get ready, fellows.” 

“ I say,” put in Fred Winter, nervously, 
“ aren’t you chaps getting kind of reckless ? ” 


236 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Wait and see, Bill number three,” said 
Stiles, dryly. 

“ Can you swim?” asked Roy Pinger, with 
a very wide grin. 

“ Of course,” said Fred, “ but I don’t want 
to ; ” and he took off his glasses and looked 
apprehensively at the choppy little waves 
flowing swiftly by. 

“ Better get ready for anything,” counseled 
Harry Cole. 

“ For the fun will begin in a few minutes,” 
added Grigsby. “ Sound the war-call, An- 
drews — won’t be the first time they’ve heard 
it.” 

Owen Andrews, a tall, lanky lad, with a 
shock of sandy hair sweeping across his fore- 
head, thrust his hand into a locker and drew 
forth a very long tin horn. 

“ Signal number three,” he remarked, sol- 
emnly, “ meaning no quarter, eh, cap ? ” 

“ That’s it,” grinned Bill Stiles. “ Let ’ergo ! ” 

Andrews placed the tin horn to his lips ; 
immediately there followed an ear-splitting 
blast which fairly made Fred Winter jump to 
his feet. He had never known that a tin 
horn could be made to produce such a variety 


House-boat 


237 


of unearthly sounds ; and when Andrews, 
quite red in the face from his exertions, took 
it from his lips, he gave a sigh of relief. 

“ Did yourself proud that time,” commented 
Bill Stiles. “ Finish it.” 

And Andrews did. A perfect din again 
floated over the air ; and then the sounder of 
war-calls sank back quite exhausted. 

Before the last echoes had ceased, a series of 
tremendous yells came from the Thorntons. 
They rose in a crescendo and ended in a med- 
ley of long-drawn-out groans. 

“ The correct answer to signal number 
three,” remarked Stiles, with satisfaction. 
“ But say, aren’t those fellows getting cheeky, 
though ? ” 

The “ Reindeer ” was now rapidly approach- 
ing the house-boat, which had stopped its en- 
gine ; and now the swift-flying “ Dart ” was 
so close to its rival that the faces of the boys 
could be clearly seen. 

“ Stop your engine ! ” commanded Stiles, 
fiercely. 

“ Stop nothing ! ” yelled Lon Bates, defi- 
antly. “ Keep off! ” 

“ Didn’t you hear what I said? ” 


238 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Yes ! And this is our answer,” and again 
the war-call of the Thorntons broke forth. 

Stiles smiled grimly, but made no response. 

Gradually the “ Dart ” drew abreast, and, 
as the two motor boats raced side by side, 
Colonel Ellison and his chauffeur looked on 
in astonishment. 

“ Keep that boat away ! ” commanded the 
former, half rising in his seat. 

“ Ma foi, yes ; it is one grand risk,” chimed 
in Pierre, with fear in his tone. 

“ Then make him stop his own engine ! ” 
shouted Bill Stiles. And he actually changed 
his course, so that the prow of the “ Dart ” 
began to swing slowly in toward the “ Rein- 
deer.” 

The utter abandon and recklessness of the 
Ripley students brought forth a storm of 
stern protests from the now really alarmed 
Colonel. 

“ Look out ! ” he called ; “ youTl be into us 
in another moment — look out ! ” 

But Bill Stiles paid no heed to this warn- 
ing. The “ Gray Gull ” was now but a short 
distance away, and both boats were headed 
directly toward it. 


House-boat 


2 39 


“ What are you trying to do, you idiots ? ” 
yelled Lon Bates, alarmed and angry. 

“ Swing around, if you don’t like it ; quick, 
now ! ” 

“ Great Csesar ! ” groaned Fred Winter. 
“ These reckless chaps will have us all in the 
water.” 

“ I insist — shut down your engine ! ” roared 
the Colonel, and, with an angry gesture, he 
reached over, as if to operate the lever him- 
self. 

Boiling over with anger, and seeing that his 
rivals had all the advantage, the captain of 
the “ Reindeer ” was forced to yield. The 
pounding of the motor suddenly ceased ; he 
changed his course with an abruptness that 
sent Colonel Ellison lurching back in his seat. 

As he did so, the Ripley boys gave a tre- 
mendous yell of triumph, and their war-call 
again sounded over the Hudson. 

Then the “ Dart ” shot swiftly across the 
“ Reindeer’s ” bow. 


CHAPTER XVII 


IN THE RED CAR 

Bright and early on the following morn- 
ing, George Clayton and Aleck Hunt were 
astir, and had their breakfast. Then they 
strolled leisurely around the town, taking in 
the sights. 

Newburgh is charmingly situated, and has 
many points of interest. 

About half-past nine, the boys reached the 
garage, took their places in the touring car, 
and, in a moment, were out on the busy 
street. 

“ Now for Poughkeepsie,” remarked George. 
“ Weather doesn't look very promising — all 
gray and cloudy.” 

“ And last night was such a dandy,” sighed 
Aleck. “ Say, we're awfully careless.” 

“ How?” 

“ Might have run plumb into that chauf- 
feur.” 

“ Wouldn't have bothered me in the least,” 
240 


House-boat 


2 4 l 


said George, calmly. “ I made up my mind 
to see Poughkeepsie, and I’m going,” and 
again he spoke in a tone which indicated 
that he was accustomed to having his own 
way. 

“ Automobiling is a jolly fine sport, isn’t 
it ? ” said Aleck. 

“ Yes, when everything goes all right,” 
laughed George. “ But I’ve seen times when 
I thought it pretty stupid.” 

“ In what way ? ” 

“ Well — a busted tire ; or something the 
matter with the machinery, and nothing to 
keep you company but a lot of rocks and 
trees. Here’s the post-office ; I’ll stop and 
scribble a line to Uncle Dan.” 

“ And me for a postal card home,” said 
Aleck. 

The writing was done in a remarkably short 
time, and the two were soon driving along the 
principal street. 

“ I’m tired of dodging cars and wagons,” 
said George, at length. “ We’ll get out in the 
country and put on a bit of speed.” 

“ But don’t go so fast we can’t get a look 
at the scenery,” remarked Aleck, who seemed 


242 


The Rambler Club’s 


to have developed a wonderful fondness for 
nature during the last few hours. 

George looked at him quizzically, but made 
no reply, and, within a short time, the red 
touring car was flying swiftly through a 
rather flat, open country dotted with farms. 

The sky was dark and lowering ; rain 
threatened to fall at any instant, and, as the 
morning progressed, a breeze sprang up and 
the ominous look of nature increased. 

“ We’re going to catch it,” grumbled George. 

“ In for a ducking, sure enough,” said 
Aleck. “ It’s too bad.” 

A few miles from Newburgh, a fine, steady 
drizzle set in and blew in their faces, and not 
being provided with goggles, the boys found 
it very unpleasant. 

Now and then, they passed a village, and 
occasionally a farmer’s wagon rattled slowly by. 

“ This is one of the times when automo- 
biling is pretty dull sport,” sighed George. 
“ I wish now we were in the nice, comfort- 
able cabin of the ‘ Gray Gull.’ ” 

The drizzle gradually increased to a steady 
rain. All nature was wet, and wore a dismal 
aspect. 


House-boat 


243 


As the rain beat relentlessly upon them, 
the boys’ spirits fell, and they lapsed into 
silence, while the red touring car rolled off 
mile after mile, passing farmhouses and 
small villages, where the ever-present small 
dog rushed out to bark and snarl and risk his 
life in front of the gliding monster. 

On long, straight stretches, George drove as 
fast as he dared, and Aleck, who was getting 
used to the sensation, made no protest, but, 
wet and miserable, huddled back in an effort 
to protect himself from the pelting rain. 

“ Well, I certainly am disgusted,” declared 
George, at length. “ I couldn’t be wetter — 
could you ? ” 

“ Not if the river was to roll up and spill 
all over me,” sighed Aleck, ruefully. “ Nice 
looking messes we are to go to Poughkeepsie. 
What shall we do when we get there ? ” 

“ Leave the auto in a garage I know of ; 
then wait for the ‘ Gray Gull.’ She ought to 
be along by early evening.” 

“ Who’s going to take the auto back to 
Nyack ? ” 

“ Pierre, or myself. Remember, Aleck, it’s 
my machine.” 


244 


The Rambler Club’s 


Another hour passed, and George uttered a 
sigh of satisfaction. 

“ Not much further, now,” he said. “ See, 
there's the Great Poughkeepsie railroad 
bridge." 

“ Gee whiz, it's high and it's long," said 
Aleck, with interest. “Looks pretty faint 
through the rain, doesn’t it?" 

“ Yes ; and there’s a ferry-boat coming in. 
We’ll be just in time to get across." 

The car glided upon the ferry-boat with 
just an instant to spare and came to a stop 
behind a farmer’s wagon. 

Had the day been pleasant, the two boys 
would have thoroughly enjoyed the experi- 
ence. Close by was the great railroad bridge, 
behind them rose a line of picturesque hills, 
and across the river lay Poughkeepsie, at the 
present moment quite hidden by rain and 
mist. 

In a few moments, the ferry-boat was 
under way. The wind had kicked up the 
surface of the gray, gloomy river into white- 
capped waves, and the boys could not help 
wondering how the “ Gray Gull " was faring 
amidst such a storm. 


House-boat 


245 


Gradually the buildings of the town be- 
came visible ; then the ferry-boat entered her 
slip, and the red touring car slowly followed 
the farmer’s wagon into the street, and up the 
hill. 

Main Street is a wide, pleasant thorough- 
fare lined on either side with good-sized 
buildings, and, in spite of the stormy weather, 
presented a busy appearance. 

George kept to the side of the car track. 

“ Garage isn’t far,” he said. “ And won’t I 
be glad to get there ? If Pierre knew about 
our trip, he’d have the laugh on us.” 

“ Yes, he would,” said Aleck, dismally. 

“ We’ll swing right around this corner, 
and ” 

“ Better let the car back of us pass,” inter- 
rupted Aleck. 

George glanced over his shoulder. 

“ I’m too good a chauffeur to lose so much 
time,” he laughed, as he turned the touring 
car and started to cross the track. 

«Now I’ll ” 

He stopped short and uttered an exclama- 
tion. With a suddenness that jarred both 
boys, the automobile came to an abrupt halt, 


246 The Rambler Club’s 

and the car bearing down upon them was 
prevented from crashing into it only by the 
quick and timely efforts of the motorman. 

“ Hey there ! What are you about ? ” he 
yelled. 

“ Another pretty mess,” murmured George, 
with a rather dismal expression. “ I can’t 
make it budge.” 

“ Great Scott ! ” cried Aleck. 

“Come now, get out of that!” continued 
the motorman, clanging his gong loudly. 

George, without replying, continued his 
efforts to send the automobile ahead ; but it 
stood across the track just as immovably as if 
its wheels had never revolved. 

A crowd of curious onlookers began to 
collect. 

“ Get a horse ! ” shouted some one. 

“ Step out and push,” chimed in another. 

“ Don’t you know any better than to block 
the cars ? ” said a third. 

Suggestions and bantering remarks flew 
thick and fast, while George, red in the face 
and fuming, jumped out and began to examine 
the machinery. 

Another car rolled up ; wagons began to 


House-boat 


2 47 


stop, and, in a few minutes, the embarrassed 
boys began to think the whole population of 
Poughkeepsie had assembled at that particular 
point. 

“ Try an aeroplane next time, boys,” said a 
tall, grave-looking man. 

“ Speak gently, and coax it,” laughed his 
companion. 

“ We’re twenty minutes late now,” growled 
the disgusted motorman, approaching. 
“ Things is cornin’ to a pretty pass when 
youngsters is allowed to run them things by 
theirselves. Hurry up, bub. Hey, you in 
the car, why don’t you get out of that, and 
help your pard ? ” 

“Fond of stayin’ out in de roin ? ” asked 
an urchin. 

“ I’m twenty minutes late now, an’ ” 

“ It’ll be forty soon,” said the boy, in great 
glee. 

“ One — two — three cars back, and another 
coming,” said the motorman. “ If Bill Wat- 
son was here, he’d make that thing go.” 

Considerably flustered at the commotion, 
George worked and perspired, but not being 
an expert made no progress at all. With an 


248 The Rambler Club’s 

obstinacy that defied all his efforts, the motor 
refused to work, and Aleck, who had jumped 
to the ground, looked at him in dismay. 

“ What’s to be done ? ” he whispered. 

“ I don’t know,” answered the other, 
blankly. 

“ Twenty-six and a half minutes late. I 
ain’t goin’ to stand this no longer,” growled 
the motorman. 

“ You ain’t standing it ; the auto’s doing 
that,” remarked some one. 

In spite of the rain, a great crowd jostled 
and surged around the stalled automobile. 
Seven cars stretched back in a line, and five 
wagons had stopped. 

“ Git your shoulders to the thing an’ push 
it over to the side,” commanded the motor- 
man. “ Never could see no sense in ’em, any- 
how. Git out from under there, bub — I’m 
twenty-nine minutes late a’ready.” 

“ Make it thirty and be done with it,” 
grumbled the disgusted George, red in the 
face. 

“ No sass — I don’t take none.” 

“ Same here.” 

“ Jest listen at that, gents ! He ain’t satis- 


House-boat 


249 


fied with tying up the whole car line ; but 
he hands out sass. Can you beat it ?” and, 
with a wave of his hand, the motorman ap- 
pealed to the crowd. 

“ Quit your row, now,” broke in George, 
sharply. 

“ Me — makin’ a row? Well, did I ever 
hear sich talk ? Thirty-one an’ a half min- 
utes late ! Any more of that sass cornin’ ? ” 

“ Do you think I stopped here on purpose?” 

“ Wal, you’ll git out on purpose. Now 
I ” 

“ What’s the trouble here?” exclaimed an 
authoritative voice. 

A policeman pushed his way forward. 
Then, as his eyes rested on the number of the 
automobile, he uttered an exclamation. 

“Just the one we’re looking for,” he said, 
eagerly. “ Where are the fellows running it ? ” 

“ Right here,” said the motorman. “ Cap, 
I’m thirty-four minutes late, an’ that 
there ” 

“ Hey ! Nab those two chaps ! ” roared the 
policeman, ducking around the car. 

But George Clayton had quickly taken in 
the situation. 


250 


The Rambler Club’s 


The hot blood mounted to his face, as he 
thought of being actually detained, and he 
determined to outwit the authorities, regard- 
less of his automobile and everything else. 

With a hurried, “ Come ahead, Aleck,” he 
dashed headlong out of the crowd, and made for 
a side street, while Aleck instantly followed. 

The crowd seemed to melt, and the lusty 
shouts of the policeman urged the boys on. 

Thoroughly aroused, George and Aleck put 
on a terrific burst of speed, and easily dis- 
tanced the foremost of their pursuers. They 
were just as successful in dodging several who 
tried to head them off. 

Up one street and down another the boys 
raced, with several street curs barking and 
snapping at their heels. 

When they came to a pause, it was by the 
side of a lumber yard. The high piles served 
as a protection from the rain, and the two, 
breathing hard, leaned against the fence, and 
looked anxiously for any signs of their pur- 
suers. 

“Some excitement, eh?” gasped George, 
when he had recovered his breath sufficiently 
to speak. 


House-boat 


251 


“ I should say so,” panted Aleck, stuffing 
his hands in his pockets. “ Whew ! Maybe 
we haven’t had a time of it. But say, how 
about your auto? ” 

“ That part of it doesn’t bother me,” an- 
swered George, with a calmness that surprised 
his companion. “ The authorities are bound 
to take care of it. Gee whiz — it made my 
blood boil when I thought of being held in 
this place until Uncle Dan, or perhaps Pierre, 
should straighten things out. Just think of 
it.” 

“ I did think of it,” said Aleck. “ That’s 
the reason I ran so fast. Don’t believe we’re 
safe in this place.” 

“ Nor I, either.” 

“ What shall we do ? ” 

“ Look out for the ‘ Gray Gull ’ ; and make 
Jack Lyons sail right away from Poughkeep- 
sie.” 

“ We’ll have some hours to wait.” 

“ Well, we can go to some small restaurant 
and get a bite to eat. Jiminy, I’d like to 
know what they have done with the auto,” 
and George laughed. 

“ Wonder what was the matter with it? ” 


252 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Don’t know, I’m sure.” 

“ We’d better get along.” 

“ That’s right. And keep far away from 
Main Street. Gee! My little trip has cer- 
tainly raised the dickens ; and all on account 
of Pierre Dufour’s stupidity.” 

Slowly and cautiously the two walked to 
the corner, and seeing nothing but a deserted 
street, started briskly off, keeping a watchful 
eye open for any signs of danger. Half an 
hour later, they entered a small restaurant 
near the river front, and enjoyed the best in 
the house. 

The meal and a long rest put them in better 
spirits again, and when they walked outside 
it was to see that the rain had stopped enough 
to allow a patch of blue sky to show between 
the slowly moving clouds. 

“ This is a bit better,” remarked George, 
with satisfaction ; “ but I wish it had stopped 
before it began. Where shall we go ? Why, 
down by the river, I guess. Your legs tired ? 
It’s a good thing you can’t feel mine — no 
Marathons for me.” 

The boys continued their walk, never going 
very far from the river. On the outskirts of 


House-boat 


253 


the city, they came across an old man sitting 
on a log, puffing contentedly away on a short 
pipe. Close by his side was a shaggy dog. 

The old fellow looked up as the two ap- 
proached. His face, bronzed a deep brown, 
was seamed with wrinkles, but his eyes were 
kindly and a smile curled his lips. 

“ Afternoon, youngsters,” he said, cheer- 
fully. 

“ How are you ? ” replied George and Aleck, 
almost in a breath. 

“ Fair to middlin’. Me name’s Bill Holl- 
back.’* 

“ Glad to hear it,” said George, politely. 

“ An’ me father’s name was Bill Hollback ; 
his father’s name was Bill Hollback ; an’ 
hisn, too, was Bill Hollback. Kinder curi- 
ous, eh ? ” 

“ Very.” 

“ An’ that ain’t all ; me son’s name is Bill 
Hollback.” 

“ I hope they are all well and happy,” said 
George. 

“ Hey ? ” 

“ That is — of course, I mean you and 
young Bill.” 


254 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Oh, yes ; fair to middlin’. This here dog’s 
name is Sailor.” 

“ That’s a nice name.” 

“ Yes — fair to middlin’. That there skiff 
ye see out there is mine ; gived to me by the 
finest man you ever see — lives over to Tick- 
etwood house.” 

“ A nice boat,” said Aleck. “ The ‘ Lottie,’ 
eh?” 

“ Yes — fair to middlin’ name. I’ve sailed 
a bit in me life. What’s that — will I hire me 
boat ? Say that again, youngster — will I hire 
me boat ? ” 

“ That’s what I asked,” said George, smil- 
ingly. “ Eh, Aleck, we’ll go back to meet the 
1 Gray Gull.’ Say, why can’t we?” 

“ Suits me to a dot.” 

“ Then let’s start right off. Come on, Mr. 
Hollback ; we’ll have a jolly nice sail,” and 
George walked over to the edge of a rickety 
wharf. 

Old Bill and his dog arose. 

“ You have spoke the cheerfulest words I’ve 
hearn fur a long spell,” he said. “ ‘ Will I 
hire me boat?’ Them words don’t sound 
nateral. Would ye mind sayin’ them again ? ” 


House-boat 


255 

and Old Bill chuckled mirthfully, as George 
complied. 

Old Bill Hollback was a good sailor and 
knew how to get the benefit of all the breeze 
that was stirring, and the “ Lottie ” was soon 
standing out from the wharf. 

Vivid patches of blue sky showed in many 
places, and the sunlight streamed through the 
openings. The afternoon and evening prom- 
ised to be delightful. 

The “ Lottie ” was a speedy boat, and the 
stiff breeze filled out her sail ; and, now and 
then, her bow, plunging into the whitecapped 
waves, sent a sheet of spray flying over the 
gunwale. 

“ Yes/’ said Old Bill, “ I spent many a year 
on the water ; once made a voyage to China. 
All the Hollbacks was sailors. Me father’s 
name was Bill, and his father’s name ” 

“ Did you like China? ” interrupted George, 
hastily. 

“ Fair to middlin’. Somebody hailin’ us, 
ain’t there ? ” 

“ Yes, over on that wharf.” 

“ We’ll p’int her in a bit, an’ see what he 
wants.” 


256 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Hello, Bill Hollback ! ” came a loud 
voice. “ Hello ! ” 

“ Me eyes ain’t so good ; but I knows his 
voice,” said Old Bill. “ He belongs to the 
perlice.” 

George and Aleck exchanged swift glances. 

“ I’ve done bits o’ work fur ’im ; onct 
helped ’im run down a gang o’ river 
thieves ” 

“ Hello, Bill Hollback ! ” yelled the man on 
the wharf again. “ Keep your eyes skinned 
for a house-boat with a parcel of boys aboard. 
It’s coming up the river.” 

“ Ye see,” chuckled Old Bill, “ them perlice 
needs me ag’in.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE COLONEL IS ANGRY 

“ What do you mean by such conduct, you 
young rascals ? ” thundered Colonel Ellison, 
wrathfully. 

Bill Stiles had manoeuvred in such a manner 
that the “ Dart ” now rested between the 
“ Reindeer ” and house-boat. 

“ Well / 7 answered Bill, calmly, “ those 
Thornton chaps have been too fresh lately, 
and we’re just showing them for about the 
hundredth time that it doesn’t pay to buck 
up against Ripley.” 

“ Oh, you are, eh ? ” sneered Lon Bates. 
“ If it hadn’t been for this gentleman and his 
choofer, I wouldn’t have given you an inch.” 

“ Of course not,” chimed in Ralph Chick- 
ers, no less disgusted than his chief. 

“ That will do from you, ‘ Chickens,’ ” ob- 
served Bill Stiles. 

Colonel Ellison moved uneasily in his seat. 

“ I shall report your utterly reckless and 
257 


258 The Rambler Club’s 

disgraceful conduct to the school authorities/' 
he went on. “ You narrowly escaped upset- 
ting us. Such a lot of children should never 
be entrusted with a motor boat.” 

“ Quite correct, sir,” said Lon Bates. 

“ And I demand that you immediately 
stand out of our way, as I wish to be put 
aboard that house-boat. Redfern,'' he shouted, 
“ is my nephew there? ” 

“ No, Colonel Ellison, he is not.” 

“ I intend to see for myself.” 

“ You are quite welcome to do so.” 

“ Get out of our way, Bill Stiles,” com- 
manded Lon Bates. “ You heard what this 
gentleman said.” 

“ My ears are good, Bates. Colonel, we 
shall run up alongside ; and if you will kindly 
step into our boat, you shall be transferred in 
something less than a minute.” 

“ Noton your life ! ” cried Bates, indignantly. 

“ The idea,” said Tom Allen. 

“ Stop your wrangling, boys,” exclaimed 
the exasperated Colonel. “ I can't stay out 
here all night.” 

Norman Redfern interposed. 

{ “ See here, fellows,” he said, addressing the 


House-boat 


259 

Ripleys, “ I’m a graduate of Ripley. I ask 
that you withdraw, as a favor to me.” 

This remark caused an immense sensation. 

Owen Andrews picked up the tin horn, and 
blew another tremendous blast, and a salvo of 
cheers arose on the air. 

“ That’s the way we always salute our grad- 
uates,” said Bill Stiles, when the frantic din 
had subsided. 

“ Being skipper of a log hut is doing pretty 
well for a graduate of Ripley,” said Bates. 

This remark caused a hearty burst of laugh- 
ter, in which Redfern joined. 

“ Ma foi — he speaks well,” exclaimed Pierre. 
“ But, oh, how much of it we hear. Is it 
all night that we have ze grand talk ? ” 

“ Apparently so,” said Colonel Ellison, with 
a faint touch of amusement in his voice. 

“ Ripley has won another victory,” remarked 
Bill Stiles, “ and is satisfied. We are the ul- 
tra-personification of grandiloquent magna- 
nimity.” 

A faint “ oh ” came from Pierre ; then 
silence fell upon the scene, only to be broken 
a moment later by the sound of the “ Dart’s ” 
engine. 


26 o 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Look alive, Bill on the house-boat,” went 
on Stiles, addressing Jack Lyons. “ Catch this 
line.” 

He threw it ; then stopped his motor, and, 
with considerable skill, navigated the “ Dart” 
so that she swung easily up to the “ Gray Gull.” 

Jack Lyons and Joe Preston uttered ex- 
clamations as Bob Somers, who had been 
seated far back, rose to his feet. 

“ Where in the dickens did all you fellows 
come from, old boy ? ” began Jack. 

Bob gave a warning gesture. 

“ I’ll tell you in a few minutes. Much 
obliged, you Ripley chaps. We’ve had a 
lively race.” 

“ Why, where in the world is George? And 
where’s Aleck ? ” burst out Joe. 

“ Sh-h-h ! Wait a minute,” whispered Bob, 
who had now jumped aboard the house-boat. 
“ Can’t talk for a minute — here comes his 
guardian.” 

The “ Reindeer ” presently landed its dis- 
tinguished passenger. Colonel Ellison stepped 
forward and favored the former tutor with a 
tremendous frown. 

“ Redfern,” he said, sternly, “ what is the 


House-boat 261 

meaning of this ? What business had you to 
run away ? ” 

“ He didn’t,” interposed Jack Lyons, calmly. 

“ Explain yourself, young man.” 

“ Well, it was this way,” said Jack. “ Won’t 
you have a seat, sir ? ” 

“ No ! ” said Colonel Ellison, sharply. 

“ I took the ‘ Gray Gull ’ out myself.” 

“ Thought the river was free ; the air is,” 
said Joe, cheerfully. 

“ You attempted to run away. Answer me 
— did you not expect to pick up my ward and 
have him continue with you, in spite of my 
express wish to the contrary ? ” 

“ No, sir — not exactly.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Let me explain, Colonel,” interposed Red- 
fern, with a slight flush. 

“ I’m talking to this young man.” 

“ Well, sir,” said Jack, calmly, “ the honest 
fact is I wanted to see George before he ran 
into you ; and ” 

“ What?” cried Colonel Ellison. 

“ And I knew that if he saw the ‘ Gray 
Gull ’ out on the river he’d suspect something 
and keep out of sight. You see ” 


262 The Rambler Club’s 

“ I never listened to such impudence in 
my life,” stormed the angry Colonel. “ You 
heard that, Norman Redfern ? " 

“ Oh, my, oh, my ! " gulped Joe. 

“ Sh-sh," said Fred ; “ be more polite. 7 ' 

“ You haven't heard quite all, Colonel," 
interrupted Redfern. 

“ Oh, there is more to come, eh ? ” 

“ Yes, sir," went on Jack, calmly facing the 
angry gentleman. 

“ Tickets to the show, ten cents," came from 
the irrepressible Bates ; “ three for a quarter. 
Children admitted free." 

“ It's an honest fact — we were going to try 
and make George return home ; but we 
thought he ought to have a chance, and not 
be dragged back for that silly chauffeur to 
have the laugh on him." 

“ George is a high-spirited boy," said Red- 
fern ; “ but we hoped to appeal to his reason." 

“ And head off a fierce row," added Bates. 
“ Say, what wouldn’t have happened in the 
word-throwing line?" 

“ So you have constituted yourselves into a 
committee, as it were, to decide questions be- 
tween myself and my ward? Very well, 


House-boat 


263 

Redfern ; I wish you to understand one thing 
— let my ward alone, or I shall place the 
matter in the hands of the authorities.” 

Turning abruptly, Colonel Ellison hailed 
the Thornton students. 

“ Young gentlemen,” he said, “ will you 
kindly put me ashore ? ” 

“ Certainly,” answered Lon Bates. “ Start 
the engine, 1 Chickens/ — only about five 
thumps. That will do. Hang on to the post 
there, until the gentleman gets in.” 

When Colonel Ellison was seated safely, he 
turned toward the boys from Ripley. 

“ Young men,” he said, “your conduct will 
be reported to the proper authorities.” 

But when, a moment later, the “ Reindeer ” 
was set in motion, the “ Dart ” immediately 
followed. 

A chorus of cheery “ good-nights ” floated 
over the air, and the house-boat was again 
alone. 

“ Talk about a racket,” laughed Jack, as 
they watched the rapidly receding boats. “ It 
was pretty lively, eh? Now, Bob Somers, 
what’s all this mystery? Where are Aleck 
and George ? ” 


264 The Rambler Club’s 

Bob Somers’ story produced a great sensa- 
tion. 

Jack whistled and thrust his hands deep in 
his pockets, and whistled again, while Joe 
burst out laughing. 

Redfern looked very grave indeed. 

“ Things are getting worse and worse,” he 
said. “ Bob, don’t you think you should have 
told all this to Colonel Ellison ? ” 

“ I didn’t care to act in too great a rush,” 
answered Bob, calmly. “ It’s easy to see that 
George’s guardian is in a very unreasonable 
frame of mind.” 

“ We can’t figure out what he is going to 
do,” returned Redfern. “ He may continue ; 
or go back ; or notify the authorities. It is 
only right that we should make an effort to 
let him know the facts at once.” 

“ Small chance to catch him, unless he 
lands at the nearest point,” observed Dave. 

“ Maybe the painful way in which the 
automobile disappeared will take the pair 
kiting back to the spot where it was last 
seen,” said Joe, w T ith a tremendous grin. 

“ We’ll head for that section of the earth,” 
said Jack. 


House-boat 


265 

Under full power, the “ Gray Gull ” was soon 
forging ahead. The changing position of the 
tiny specks of light in the distance indicated 
that the motor boats were still in motion, but 
their course did not seem to be toward the shore. 

“ Say, Jack,” remarked Fred, solemnly, a 
few moments later, “ if you were so anxious 
George shouldn't run into his guardian, why 
didn't one of you wait somewhere on the road 
for him, or in the woods ? ” 

“ Couldn't tell from what direction George 
might come. Besides, we thought the Colo- 
nel wouldn’t hang around any longer if the 
house-boat pulled out.” 

“ Big surprise when those two launches be- 
gan scooting after us,” chimed in Joe. 

Dave raised the telescope and swept the 
surface of the river. 

“ Still on the move, and going right up 
stream,” he declared. 

“ Are you sure ? ” asked Redfern, with a 
frown. 

“ Yes ; no doubt of it. Take a look if you like.” 

“ Never mind ; I'll accept your statement as 
a fact. But we'd better continue the chase until 
we can no longer trace their movements.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


GEORGE IS WANTED 

“ Well, this is a nice state of affairs, isn’t 
it? ” whispered George, when he had recovered 
sufficiently from his astonishment to speak. 
“ Looks as if we had jumped from the frying- 
pan into the fire.” 

“ Yes,” remarked Old Bill, “ I’ve done 
lots of work fur them perlice. Ye see, I 
always hang out on the river — can’t get 
away from the smell o’ the water. All 
the Hollbacks was sailors. Me father’s name 
was ” 

“ You told us before,” said George, hastily. 

“ So I did. Wal, I’ve done fair to middlin’, 
an’ ” 

“ Going to watch out for this house-boat ? ” 
asked George, carelessly. 

“ Sure as me father’s name was Bill Holi- 
back. It ain't nuthin’ to me what they’s 
done. The perlice says to Bill Hollback, 
1 Look out fur a house-boat,’ an’ I says to the 
266 


House-boat 267 

perlice, ‘ There she be,’ leastwise if they don’t 
up an’ skip afore the perlice git here.” 

The water-front of Poughkeepsie presented 
a variety of picturesque and interesting 
sights. The “ Lottie ” sailed under the rail- 
road bridge, and the boys greatly admired the 
immense structure. Then they went by the 
ferry slips, where one of the boats was just 
swinging out, and finally Old Bill headed out 
toward a slim, white-hulled yacht anchored 
near the opposite shore. 

“ Belongs to a New York feller,” he ex- 
plained. “ I know the cap’n.” 

When the “ Lottie ” had sailed across the 
river, and circled around the handsome yacht, 
George declined an invitation from the good- 
natured mate to “ step aboard,” and the skiff 
began her return voyage. 

George was indeed sorry that their prospec- 
tive trip to meet the house-boat had been so 
unexpectedly cut short. 

“ Bill,” he said, as they stood on the wharf 
and he handed the old sailor a two-dollar 
note, “ does this pay you ? ” 

“ All fur me ? ” queried the other, arching 
his eyebrows in surprise. 


268 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Every cent.” 

“ Wal, as sure as me father’s name was Bill 
Hollback and hisn was too, I’m surprised. 
Youngsters, I’m a friend of yourn fur life.” 

“ Good,” laughed George. “ Now, Bill, I’m 
kind of curious about that house-boat — I’d 
like to know something about it. May we 
see you to-night ? ” 

“ You certainly kin. I lives near the 
wharf ; an’ will sartingly be proud to hev ye 
come,” and Old Bill named a street and told 
the boys how to reach it. 

It was about half-past six when the two set 
out in search of Old Bill’s house. They easily 
found the street. It was a narrow, winding 
thoroughfare with rickety dwellings and large 
storehouses. The surroundings seemed to sug- 
gest water, and boats, and Bill Hollbacks. 

Crushed between two larger buildings was 
the old riverman’s home ; and the two found 
both himself and Bill Junior waiting to re- 
ceive them. 

“ Come right in, youngsters,” he said, 
heartily. “ You’re as welcome as the flowers 
in May. Fetch chairs, you Bill — that’s it.” 

George and Aleck looked about them with 


House-boat 


269 

interest. The old-fashioned, dingy room and 
old-fashioned furniture seemed so apart from 
the present age that they would not have been 
surprised to learn that the long line of Bill 
Hollbacks, from the dim and misty past to 
the present, had spent their lives within its 
walls. 

“ Wal, youngsters, I ain't got much to tell 
ye," said Old Bill, reflectively. 

“ Didn’t you see that house-boat, after 
all ? ’’ asked George, carelessly. 

“ Sartingly did ; and with me own eyes. A 
crowd o’ lively chaps aboard, too. But it 
didn’t do no good." 

“ How’s that?" 

“ Wal, some youngster they was lookin’ fur 
weren’t there." 

“ Oh ! " said Aleck, also in a very indiffer- 
ent tone. 

Old Bill’s quaint and original views were 
so entertaining that the boys stayed much 
longer than they had intended. 

Suddenly a loud, peremptory knock on the 
door startled them. 

“ Must be Dexter," said Old Bill. “ He’s 
the man what called to me from the wharf 


270 


The Rambler Club’s 


this afternoon. Drops in ’most every night fur 
a cup of coffee, Dexter does. Open the door, 
lad.” 

A tall, thin man entered. He had an 
aquiline nose, keen gray eyes, and an air of 
authority. 

“ Hello, Bill,” he said, familiarly. “ Com- 
pany — don’t often happen, eh? Sit still, 
lads. How’s the world treating you, Bill ? ” 

“ Fair to middlin’. These youngsters was 
out with me this arternoon in the ‘ Lottie.’ 
They was kinder curious about that there 
house-boat, and dropped in to ask about it.” 

Dexter fixed his keen, gray eyes on George 
Clayton’s face, and a rather peculiar expres- 
sion flashed across his own. He leaned for- 
ward, and the boy noted, with sudden appre- 
hension, that the look he received was more 
than one of idle curiosity. 

“ Brown hair, blue eyes, straight features, 
gray suit, soft hat.” 

Dexter, checking off this enumeration on 
his fingers, paused, and smiled grimly. 

“ Stop — stop ! ” he yelled, an instant later. 

George had been thinking quickly, and was 
already on his feet. Springing forward, he 


House-boat 


271 


overturned his chair, reached the front door, 
and flung it wide open. Aleck was scarcely 
a yard behind him. 

“ Stop — stop ! ” commanded Dexter, again. 

But his words fell upon deaf ears. The 
two boys pounded along the pavement, which 
was almost deserted, and were soon around a 
corner. 

Bill Junior was on their trail. Bill was 
long of limb and fleet of foot. The pursuing 
Dexter was soon left far behind ; but Bill 
Junior kept close at their heels, unshakable 
as their own shadows. 

“ Stop, you fellows, stop ! ” he panted. 
“ Stop — I want to speak with ye.” 

Looking over his shoulder, George saw how 
near their pursuer was. He gritted his teeth ; 
his breath was almost spent ; one more des- 
perate effort, and he was obliged to halt. 

Panting, George Clayton backed up against 
a high fence. It was a deserted locality. 
Close by, a lone gas lamp cast a pale, flicker- 
ing glare on a row of posters ; across the way 
was a line of tenements, deep in shadow ; be- 
yond, were fields. It seemed on the edge of 
nowhere — a dismal, forbidding place. 


272 The Rambler Club’s 

Aleck stopped close by. For several mo- 
ments, none of the three boys spoke. A 
variety of feelings coursed through George 
Clayton’s breast. He looked at Bill Junior’s 
strong, loosely-put-together frame, his big, 
bony hands ; and gazed at the grinning face 
with its tousled hair, and then — 

Bill Junior extended his hand. 

“ You’re a couple o’ smart ones,” he cried. 
“ My, oh, my ! An’ pop talkin’ the way he 
did ! Ha, ha — I can’t get over it — ha, ha ! ” 
and Bill Junior, having recovered his breath, 
immediately lost it again in a paroxysm of 
mirth. “ Oh, my, oh, my, but ain’t I glad that 
old Dexter got left ! It’s the richest thing out ; 
an’ pop talkin’ the way he did ! Ha, ha ! ” 

“ And you mean,” gasped George, scarcely 
believing his ears, “ that you didn’t come 
after us to ” 

“ I’m awful tickled that ye got away — that’s 
what!” cried Bill Junior, heartily; “ an’ I 
come after ye to tell ye. Ha, ha, but won’t I 
jist laugh at pop an’ old Dexter? Shake — 
ye’re a couple o’ smart ones.” 

“ Bill,” remarked George Clayton, with a 
sigh of relief, “ you’re a regular brick.” 


House-boat 


273 


“ I should say so,” chimed in Aleck. “Gee, 
but if I had only known before I broke the 
quarter mile record. Do you think Dexter 
will look for us ? ” 

“ Sure I That fellow would spend a week 
lookin’ fur an alley cat, if it got away from 
him,” said Bill Junior, forcibly. 

“Then,” said George, with some alarm, 
“ we’d better get along.” 

“ I know whar’ the house-boat is, an’ I’m 
goin’ to tell them fellers to watch out fur ye.” 

The three held a brief consultation, and 
Bill gave them a bit of advice which the boys 
agreed to accept. 

“ Well,” said George, with a long breath, as 
Bill’s figure disappeared around a corner, 
“did you ever hear of anything to beat it? 
To think of running right into the very fellow 
who was looking for me. 

The two soon reached the river front. The 
great bridge and hills rising on the opposite 
shore formed a pleasing picture ; but the 
street close at hand, with its pools of water 
and dismal surroundings, did not. 

They struck off briskly, and soon were leav- 
ing the city behind. 


2 74 


The Rambler Club’s 


In about half an hour, they saw a lone, 
frame house standing back from the road. 

“This must be the deserted building that 
Bill Junior told us about,” remarked George, 
with a laugh. “ Nice place for a millionaire 
boy to spend the night. ” 

The house, with its gabled ends and peaked 
roof, wore a mysterious air in the moonlight. 
Over its pillared door vines grew in profusion 
and thick masses climbed across the front of 
the house. 

There was no door to impede their progress. 
In spite of himself, Aleck found creepy feel- 
ings stealing over him. But it would never 
do to back out now. With a cheery whis- 
tle, he stepped boldly into the hall, then 
through a doorway, to find himself in a large 
room. 

But he had no sooner set foot inside than a 
series of strange sounds suddenly started up, 
and, with an exclamation of alarm, he stepped 
back. 

Before Aleck could make another move, an 
object struck him violently on the back of the 
head, sending him against the wall. 


CHAPTER XX 


TWO NIGHTS 

For an instant, Aleck Hunt was too terri- 
fied to move. The weird sound of flapping 
wings filled the room. A black object flashed 
close to his head ; then another, and Aleck, 
with a stifled cry, dodged hastily through the 
doorway, and collided with George Clayton. 

“ Good gracious! What's the matter ?" 
gasped the latter, in alarm. 

“ Bats," answered Aleck, laconically. 

George peered cautiously in. 

“ Jiminy, the room is full of them ! ” he 
cried. “ Never saw so many in my life." 

“ I got an awful crack on the head," said 
Aleck, ruefully. “ Nearly knocked me over." 

“ Moral : never go into a perfectly dark and 
deserted place without looking," laughed 
George. 

The moonlight streaming through the 
broken panes revealed a number of the crea- 
tures wildly circling around and around, 
sometimes skimming close to the wall. 

275 


276 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Look out ! ” yelled Aleck, suddenly. 

• One of the bats veered sharply, flew through 
the doorway directly over their heads, and 
disappeared into the next room. Another 
followed its lead, and the boys hastily moved 
away. 

“ Regular Batville,” remarked Aleck, rub- 
bing his head. “ And Bill Junior said it was 
just the place for us to spend the night.” 

“ Don’t suppose he ever saw these tenants,” 
laughed George. “ What shall we do now ? ” 

“ Take a look up-stairs.” 

This time, the other boy offered no objec- 
tion, and, with Aleck in the lead, they started 
up. The rickety steps creaked and groaned 
dismally beneath their feet, and a cloud of 
dust arose. It was dark in the passageway 
and both moved with great caution, each in- 
stant expecting to hear the sound of flap- 
ping wings above their heads. 

But the upper rooms were deserted, and the 
two breathed a sigh of ” relief as they entered 
the largest, their footsteps echoing strangely 
throughout the house. 

“ Well,” remarked Aleck. 

“ Well,” said George. 


House-boat 


277 


They looked at each other and laughed. 

“ Roughing it with a vengeance/' said 
George, walking toward the window. “ A bit 
more than I bargained for ; still, I guess we’ll 
have to stand it.” 

“Just what we don’t want to do,” said 
Aleck, with a grin. “ If we only had some 
straw, and a blanket, and ” 

“ Why not say a feather bed, nice, clean 
sheets, wash-stand and electric lights ? ” 

“ That’s so,” laughed Aleck. “ What we 
can’t get, there’s no use kicking about, eh ? 
Philosophy with a big P, old boy.” 

Using their coats as pillows, the boys finally 
lay down. 

It was a long, uncomfortable night, and 
never had they so welcomed the glimmer of 
early dawn. When George arose and looked 
out of the window, he saw in the eastern sky 
a line of purplish clouds edged underneath 
with a rosy glow, but all else was gray and 
cheerless. 

“ Aleck ! ” he called. “ Wake up ! I de- 
clare, how can that chap sleep so well ? ” 

The other aroused with a start. 

“ Hello,” he cried. “ Oh, my, but I’m sore 


278 The Rambler Club’s 

and stiff/’ and, as he arose, Aleck groaned 
and grumbled, and rubbed his aching bones. 

“ So am I,” said George, cheerfully. “ But 
let’s be off. We’ll have breakfast at some 
farmhouse, and then for the 4 Gray Gull ’ 
again.” 

The day promised to be warm. As the sun 
rose higher and higher and the birds caroled 
and chirped, and squirrels scrambled frantic- 
ally to places of safety and peered down with 
their bright, beady eyes, the boys forgot their 
pains and aches, in the enjoyment of nature. 

A good-hearted farmer gave the two a ride, 
and, on turning off at a fork, told them where 
a meal could be had. 

The people at the farmhouse welcomed 
them heartily, and the boys enjoyed a bounti- 
ful repast with some of the “ men folks.” 

An hour later, Aleck and George were lying 
in the shade of some fine old willows, watch- 
ing eagerly for the house-boat. 

The heat gradually increased ; scarcely a 
breath of air seemed stirring. 

Another hour passed, and George, who was 
lazily fanning his face with his handkerchief, 
started up. 


House-boat 


2 79 

“ Hello, I’ll bet the ‘ Gray Gull ’ is coming,” 
he said. “ See it ? ” 

“Believe you’re right,” said Aleck, glee- 
fully. “ Won’t I be glad to see those chaps 
again ? ” 

Eagerly, the two watched the dark spot 
gradually growing larger. It seemed to the 
boys as if the “ Gray Gull ” had never moved 
so slowly. Impatiently they ran along the 
beach toward it, giving several lusty yells and 
waving their arms. 

“ Hello, hello ! ” came faintly over the air, 
in Jack Lyons’ familiar voice. 

Aleck put his fingers to his lips and whistled 
shrilly, while George shouted again. 

The figures on the boat began to assume defi- 
nite shape ; then she was headed inshore. En- 
thusiastic greetings flew back and forth over 
the water, as though the boys had not seen 
each other for a month ; and the boat had 
scarcely come to a stop before Jack Lyons 
leaped to the shore. 

“ Hello, Jack ! Hello, Bob Somers ! ” 

“ Hello, George ! ” 

“ There's Aleck ! ” 

For several moments, questions flew from 


28 o 


The Rambler Club's 


one to another, with bewildering rapidity, and 
George Clayton presently heard a piece of 
news which made him whistle and open his 
eyes wide with astonishment. 

“ What ! " he gasped, scarcely believing his 
ears, “you saw Uncle Dan — he was on that 
automobile? Jehoshophat! Well, well !" and 
George thrust his hands deep in his pockets 
and whistled again. 

“ Big surprise, eh ? ” laughed Bob Somers. 

“ Surprise ? " echoed George. “ Surprise is 
no name for it. Whew ! I don't wonder he 
was angry. Sailed into you, Norman — of 
course ? ” 

“ It was an unfortunate combination of 
circumstances that led you to run away with 
the machine," said Redfern. “ I am sorry 
you were so thoughtless." 

George studied the ground an instant before 
replying. 

“ So am I, Norman," he said, frankly. 
“ But it can't be helped now." 

“For goodness' sake, tell us about that 
chase," interrupted Aleck. “ Must have had 
an exciting time, all right." 

Jack Lyons quickly gratified his curiosity, 


House-boat 281 

and both listeners smiled broadly at the 
recital. 

“ Those school chaps are still having lively 
times, aren’t they?” said George. “Mighty 
glad the Ripleys won out. I certainly should 
like to know where the other crowd landed 
Uncle Dan.” 

“Maybe ‘Pouf’ wasn’t wild,” said Joe; 
“ ha, ha ! ” 

The rich boy soon completed his tale, and 
many “ oh’s ” and “ ah’s ” escaped from the 
lips of his deeply interested listeners. 

“ Yes, we saw the two Bill Hollbacks — 
father and son,” laughed Jack. “ Great fel- 
lows, eh ? ” 

Then, in a few words, he told how the 
“ Gray Gull ” had been visited by the author- 
ities in response to a telegram sent by Colonel 
Ellison. 

“ And I know well enough that it was 
watched all night,” he went on, with a laugh. 
“But Bill Hollback Junior managed to tell 
us your plans — a regular brick — that fellow. 
So you slept in a deserted house, eh ? ” 

“ Yes, we did,” and Aleck rubbed the back 
of his head, reflectively. 


282 


The Rambler Club’s 


Redfern again tried to induce his former 
pupil to return home. 

But George shook his head. 

“ No, Redfern/' he said, quietly, “ I won't 
give that silly Pierre the least satisfaction. 
Unless Captain Jack puts me ashore, and it 
would be a mighty big scrap while it lasted, 
I'm going to keep on." 

“ I give it up, then," said Redfern, with a 
sigh. 

“ If a fleet o’ war vessels doesn’t come after 
us before I get started, I’ll put that remark in 
my history," said Joe. “ It will have to be a 
work in two volumes, quarto size, illustrated 
from life and otherwise by old Cap Lyons." 

“ How I wish you’d begin. I do like to 
read funny things," remarked Fred, with a 
very solemn face. 

“ It will be full of wit and pathos, also 
ginger, kind sir," said Joe. 

Jack kept the “ Gray Gull ” about fifty 
yards from shore. The atmosphere seemed 
to quiver with heat. The landscape was 
bathed in a yellow light, and the glare in the 
water was hard to look upon. 

Jack tied the steering gear, and they re- 


House-boat 283 

tired within, each taking a turn at the win- 
dow to see that the way was clear. 

During the afternoon, the heat increased, 
the faint breeze entirely disappeared, and not 
a cloud spotted the sky. 

Poor Confuse-us lay panting in a corner, 
gazing pitifully from one to another, scarcely 
able to enjoy his customary nap. 

And so the day passed, and night came on. 

Close inshore, the boys were attacked by 
an army of mosquitoes and flies, and, Joe de- 
clared, by every species of insect that ever ex- 
isted. They swarmed around the lanterns, 
and filled the interior, and buzzed around their 
heads, and the more they fought and slapped 
the worse the marauders seemed to become. 

“ Awful,” said George. “ Let’s go straight 
across the river. We never could get a look 
at the stars over here.” And this piece of ad- 
vice was acted upon. 

The boys found conditions much better on 
the other side. No sooner was the “ Gray 
Gull ” anchored than Fred brought out the 
telescope and stand. The former tutor’s 
handiwork was much admired. The three 
legs were fastened by means of hinges to an 


284 The Rambler Club’s 

upright piece of wood supporting another that 
turned horizontally ; to the latter was fastened 
a V-shaped trough capable of a vertical mo- 
tion, and in this the telescope was secured by 
means of a strap. 

The boys spent an enjoyable evening, study- 
ing the stars, even Joe becoming quite enthu- 
siastic as he took his turn at the glass. 

Aleck and George were very tired ; so they 
decided to retire rather early. All were good 
sleepers, and before long quietness reigned in 
the house-boat. 

Bob Somers dreamed that Confuse-us, grown 
into a great big dog, had seized the fly-wheel 
in his teeth and set the engine in motion. 
And the pulsation had a strangely double 
sound ; and he vaguely puzzled over it in his 
sleep, and seemed to hear the water gurgling 
against the side of the boat. 

Finally Bob awoke with a start, sat bolt up- 
right, and uttered an exclamation of wonder. 

The dream was only half a dream. The 
“ Gray Gull's ” engine was silent ; but the 
strange sound of double pulsations reached 
his ears plainly ; and the boat actually seemed 
to be in motion. 


House-boat 285 

“ Gracious goodness ! What does this 
mean ? ” he murmured. 

Then, still scarcely believing that he heard 
aright, he jumped up hastily. 

Yes, there was no doubt about it now. 

With a loud, “ Wake up, fellows ! ” Bob 
Somers was at the door. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A MIDNIGHT TOW 

Bob’s yell and the sound of the opening 
door caused the utmost confusion. Jack, 
half-awakened, almost fell out of his bunk ; 
Dave Brandon and Tommy were up in an 
instant, while the others scrambled to a stand- 
ing position almost in unison. Then, their 
senses taking in the extraordinary situation, 
all followed Bob, Joe stumbling over the 
terrified Confuse-us and going down on hands 
and knees. 

The “ Gray Gull,” without any effort on its 
own part, was cutting through the water at a 
speed which it had never before attained. 

Jack Lyons and Bob had disappeared 
around the side of the boat. 

“ Well, well ! ” exclaimed the latter. “ Did 
you ever ! The Ripley and Thornton boys 
again — and — and towing us to beat the 
band ! ” 

A terrific din suddenly filled the air ; above 
the shrill blasts from a horn rose a chorus of 
286 


House-boat 


287 

loud yells. It was quite the most inharmoni- 
ous combination of sounds they had ever 
heard, and Owen Andrews and his tin horn, 
as a sound producer, were voted an enormous 
success. 

The “ Reindeer ” and “ Dart ” could be 
plainly seen in the moonlight. The house- 
boat boys, having groped their way around 
to the front of the boat, responded to the 
others’ shouts with loud cheers. 

u Rah, rah — boom ! 

Oh, we’re on the way to Albany, 

The prettiest town you’ll ever see. 

Rah, rah — boom ! 

And we’re going to have a rush 
That won’t do a thing but hush 
Poor Ripley. Rah, rah — boom ! ” 

After about two seconds of silence, the 
Ripleys were heard voicing a refrain that ran 
as follows : 

“ And they’ll know there’s been a muss, 

And they’ll try to make a fuss ; 

But you’ll never hear of Thornton any more.” 

The rival students sang these lines with 
the greatest gusto, Owen Andrews and his tin 
horn again taking a prominent part. 

Bill Stiles yelled to Lon Bates, and, in 


288 The Rambler Club’s 


a moment, the “ Reindeer ” and “ Dart ” had 
come to a stop. Then the two skippers 
brought their boats alongside the “ Gray 
Gull.” 

“ Well,” said Lon Bates, “ guess you fel- 
lows had a frightful scare, all right.” 

“ Scare?” answered Jack. “ Scare? — what 
does that word mean ? ” 

“I see,” chuckled Bates, “ you are just as 
chipper as ever.” 

“ Oh, yes ; it doesn’t wear off,” laughed 
Jack. 

“ You’re mighty good sleepers,” went on 
Bates. “ Never even heard us pull up the 
anchor, and didn’t awake till we’d towed you 
about five miles.” 

“ I suppose you boys are going back now, 
and are ready for a winter’s grind ? ” said 
Redfern. 

“ Right — about the first part,” said Roy 
Pinger. “Just now, we’re showing these 
Thornton chaps the way home. They might 
stray off the river.” 

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughed Lon Bates. “ They 
keep close to us because they’re afraid of the 
dark. We feel so sorry for ’em.” 


House-boat 


289 


“ How we wonder what’s the matter 
When those children make a clatter ! 

Poor, poor Ripley.” 

“ Do you hear them tremble ? ” inquired 
Owen Andrews. 

“ Want to know how to get the best of 
them? ” shouted Joe. 

“ We have a hundred rules for it, but you 
may add one more.” 

“ Stay up all night and bail out the river.” 

“ At last we have met some one who knows 
how to talk sense,” exclaimed Bill Stiles, 
amidst a ripple of laughter. “ It’s me for the 
shore now, and a bit of sleep.” 

And this sentiment met with unanimous 
approval. 

So Jack Lyons anchored the “ Gray Gull ” 
once more, while the “ Reindeer ” and “ Dart ” 
slowly moved toward the shore. 

The house-boat boys lay down again, and 
when they awoke in the morning their mid- 
night visitors had gone. 

The heat was somewhat less oppressive, and 
a pleasant air rippled the water. 

About noon they caught a glimpse of the 
Catskill Mountains to the west, a faint gray 


290 


The Rambler Club’s 


line against a pile of whitish clouds. But 
the telescope brought this wooded range into 
closer view and the charm and beauty of the 
scenery appealed to all. 

Later in the afternoon, the “ Gray Gull ” 
was approaching a section of the river in 
which there are a number of islands. As 
they slowly continued along, some of these 
were found to be small, wooded hills, while 
others were flat and marshy. 

“ Fellows,” remarked Jack Lyons, “ let’s 
camp out to-night for a change.” 

“ Select your island, cap,” said Joe. 

“ That one with rocks and trees suits me. 
Plenty of shade — -just the place for a camp.” 

“ And must be a lot of nice plants to study,” 
added Dave. “ Let’s go there by all means.” 

To this sentiment Fred Winter heartily 
agreed. 

The house-boat was soon anchored in the 
shade of the island, its pleasant wooded 
heights rising above them. One by one they 
scrambled ashore and began to explore it with 
interest. 

In portions it was rocky and barren, while 
in others masses of underbrush grew in a wild 


House-boat 


291 

tangle which effectually prevented their pas- 
sage. 

But the boys quickly found a way to the 
top, although in some places they risked a fall 
over the steep, rocky ledges. 

Bob Somers climbed a tree, and, perched 
comfortably among the branches, had a good 
view of the landscape. When he came down, 
the eight, for Redfern had stayed by the shore, 
took seats on a grassy knoll on the other side 
of the island, and idly watched one of the 
powerful Albany steamers passing on its way 
to that city. 

After supper a fire was kindled, and, as the 
boys piled on brush and the flames mounted 
higher and higher, they cast a bright glow on 
the sturdy form of the “ Gray Gull ” and far 
out over the dark water. Confuse-us, too, 
joined the circle, and seemed quite mystified 
and uneasy. 

A steady breeze made the tree tops rustle 
with a soft, musical whispering. The woods 
outside the flaring glare looked black and for- 
bidding. The New York boys were surprised 
to find how far the firelight carried. An is- 
land some distance off sprang into view against 


292 


The Rambler Club’s 


the blackness, its rocks and trees weirdly il- 
luminated. 

That night the boys rested on beds made 
of fragrant cedar boughs, and although the 
insects were quite annoying, managed to sleep 
most of the time. 

Bright and early next morning the voyage 
was resumed. 

Had they so desired, Albany might have 
been reached late that night. But Jack and his 
chums decided to halt and wait for daylight. 

“ Besides,” said Tom, “ we might give the 
whole city an awful scare if we took ’em una- 
ware in the night.” 

Once more, at dusk, the “ Gray Gull ” was 
anchored near shore. An uneventful night 
was passed, and about 9 A. m. on the fol- 
lowing day the “ Gray Gull,” Jack Lyons, 
master, had actually reached its destination — 
the city of Albany. 

The capital of New York State is built on a 
succession of hills, and in the clear, bright 
sunlight presented a beautiful sight. The im- 
posing capitol building loomed up promi- 
nently, and several other handsome edifices 
were pointed out by Redfern. 


House-boat 


2 93 

“ Bet the governor is looking at us through 
a spy-glass right now/’ said Joe. 

Boats of all description crowded the water- 
front. There were saucy little skiffs, excursion 
steamers, and clumsy barges, some of them 
just in from their long trip through the Erie 
Canal. Puffing, panting tugs were going up 
and down the river. It was a picturesque and 
lively scene, and the boys crowding the deck 
of the house-boat gazed at the sights with 
much enjoyment. 

All of Jack Lyons’ faculties were on the 
alert. Out in mid-stream, he was obliged to 
navigate with the greatest care, and often the 
“ Gray Gull ” wobbled violently on the swells 
sent forth by passing boats. 

Norman Redfern looked rather grave. His 
trip on the house-boat had only placed him in a 
worse light than ever in Colonel Ellison’s eyes; 
and now that the journey was about over, and 
he thought of leaving the jolly company of boys, 
he could not shake off a feeling of sadness. 

“ It’s fine around here,” remarked Tom 
Clifton, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. 

“ There’s a good place to tie up,” declared 
Bob Somers, presently. 


294 The Rambler Club’s 

He pointed toward an old pier close at 
hand. 

Quite a crowd collected, as the “ Gray Gull ” 
swung slowly in. A boy with a fishing pole 
kindly seized the rope that Jack Lyons threw 
him, and wrapped it around a post. 

Within a few minutes, the house-boat boys 
were ashore. Jack answered questions from 
the curious in his usual free and easy manner ; 
then all began moving away from the wharf. 

“ I certainly feel pleased/' declared George 
Clayton, with a sigh of satisfaction. “ Got to 
Albany, in spite of Pierre ; and now I don’t 
care if Uncle Dan orders me right back home.” 

“ Yes, you won out, old boy,” said Bob, 

slapping him on the back. “ And Good 

gracious alive ! ” 

From behind a small shanty, a slight figure 
suddenly stepped into view and confronted 
the runaway. 

One glance into the excited face that looked 
into his own, and George Clayton gave a start. 

“ Pierre Dufour ! ” he exclaimed, in aston- 
ishment. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE PUSH-BALL CONTEST 

“ Ah, ha, Monsieur George, I would speak 
with you von leetle minute ! ” exclaimed the 
chauffeur, in a voice that trembled. “ Ah, you 
have not know what you do — ma foi. No ! 

Monsieur the Colonel, he Saire, I speak 

not to you,” and Pierre’s black eyes flashed 
with anger, as Norman Redfern stepped for- 
ward. 

“ Keep cool, 4 Pouf/ ” said Joe, with a grin. 
“ It pays.” 

“ Von leetle minute, Monsieur George. I 
stay here last night ; I stay here this morn- 
ing ; and ma foi, you come ! You leave these 
scamps now — you ” 

“ Cut it out, Pierre,” broke in George, with 
an amused glance at the others. “ Is my 
uncle in town ? ” 

“ Yes, Monsieur George — at a hotel. You 
come ? ” 

“ Better go,” counseled Redfern. 

295 


296 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Saire, you say nothing to him. I call 
you von scamp. I no afraid of you. In la 
belle France, I would my glove throw in 
your face — so ! ” And Pierre waved his arm 
threateningly. 

“ Cool off,” advised Joe. 

“ Listen, Pierre ” — George spoke in an 
emphatic tone — “ you have made a mess 
of things by your stupid meddling. Not 
another word. We’re all of us going to see 
Uncle Dan right now.” 

George abruptly turned on his heel, and 
started off in the direction of the hotel, while 
Pierre, with a look of amazement, promptly 
fell in the rear of the little group. 

When they arrived at the hotel they found 
that Colonel Ellison was out. 

“ Let’s go over to Ripley Academy,” pro- 
posed George, paying no heed to the chauf- 
feur’s earnest efforts to attract his attention. 

“ That’s my idea,” agreed Jack. 

“ Take my advice, and wait for your uncle,” 
said Norman. 

“ No use, when I can see him to-night,” 
answered George, with a shake of his head. 
“ I’m going.” 


House-boat 


297 

“Wait — wait/ 1 pleaded Pierre Dufour. 
“ Monsieur the Colonel, he say ” 

But George pushed promptly by, and, in a 
moment, was on the street. 

Redfern and George both knew the city 
well, and soon they were standing before the 
capitol. It is a very massive building of 
handsome design. 

Joe’s proposition to go in and see the gov- 
ernor was promptly vetoed. 

“ Don’t see why not,” grumbled Joe. “ He 
has to go to New York once in a while, and 
might like to take the trip with us.” 

Up one street and down another they went, 
admiring the neat houses surrounded by pretty 
lawns and the rows of substantial dwellings ; 
then back to the business section, where Jack 
sent off a dozen picture postals to little Bobby. 

After lunch, it was decided to visit Ripley 
Academy at once. 

Norman Redfern explained that the schools 
were separated by only half a mile, and that 
Ripley, the nearer, was about a mile from 
town. 

The day w$s pleasant, with a sky full of 
flying clouds, the country charming, and the 


298 The Rambler Club’s 

boys, in spite of the thought of meeting the 
fiery Colonel, were in high spirits. 

Ripley was an older institution than its 
rival. The building was a plain, almost aus- 
tere structure, with a columned entrance and 
a portico from which the Hudson was seen 
between stately elms. 

The building occupied by Thornton Prepar- 
atory School was of a graceful modern design, 
from the polished knob on the front door to 
the high, battlemented tower. 

Almost midway between the schools was a 
level field. And it was on this that many 
exciting contests for athletic supremacy took 
place. 

When the boys arrived on the Ripley cam- 
pus, they found it occupied by a lively crowd 
of students. An air of excitement prevailed ; 
evidently some event of great importance was 
about to take place. Groups had collected ; 
songs were being sung ; and most of these re- 
ferred to the unfortunate Thorntons. 

“ Well, well — my gracious ! All the Bills 
together ! ” cried a hearty voice. 

Bill Stiles, his face flushed with excitement, 
rushed forward, shook each of their hands in 


House-boat 


299 


turn, slapped “ Bill number three,” otherwise 
Fred Winter, on the back, and called loudly 
for Roy Pinger. 

“Gee whiz! You’re just in time,” cried 
the latter. “ There’s going to be something 
doing. Poor Thornton — don’t laugh too hard 
at ’em. Come on, Bill ; it’s time to skip.” 
And the two Ripley seniors were off. 

“ Hello, what are you chaps going to do ? ” 
yelled Bob. 

“ Follow us, and see,” answered Bill. 

Crowds of students were now leaving the 
grounds, and the nine followed in the rear. 
As they walked along a wide, shady road, 
glimpses of the river and hills beyond were 
here and there seen. 

The Ripley students continued to sing their 
lively songs, varying the performance by oc- 
casional yells and blasts from Andrews’ tin 
horn. And it was not long before other 
sounds, which they recognized as coming 
from the Thorntons, reached their ears. 

When the boys arrived at the athletic field, 
a great crowd had assembled. In the center 
was a huge, leather-covered ball. 

“ Gee whiz ! ” said Jack. “ A push ball.” 


3 °° 


The Rambler Club’s 

“ And a Jim-dandy, too ; must be six feet 
high,” put in Aleck Hunt. “Now I see the 
scheme. Great, isn't it ? ” 

“This must be something new,” laughed 
Redfern. “ There goes a signal — probably the 
first. They are lining up now — listen to Lon 
Bates.” 

“ You could hear his voice a mile off,” said 
Bob. “ Wonder where the goal lines are. 
Ought to be a nice, lively tussle. Wish to 
goodness we were in it, eh, Redfern ? ” 

But the latter shook his head. 

“ Not in my line, Bob,” he answered, dryly. 

The boys surveyed the rival groups 
with interest. The motor boat crews were 
apparently the leaders in their respective 
schools, and each had a crowd of sturdy fol- 
lowers anxious for the fray. 

“ All ready, you chaps? ” sang out Bates. 

“ Ready, here ! ” shouted the Ripleys, in 
chorus. 

The referee raised his megaphone. 

“ One — two ” — it was a tense moment — 
“ three — go ! ” 

“ They're at it,” breathed Jack. “ Yell for 
the Ripleys, fellows ! ” 


House-boat 


3 01 

The two groups brought up against the 
huge push ball at the same instant. It wob- 
bled and shook, and ambled sideways, while 
defiant shouts were hurled from camp to 
camp. 

It was a battle full of interest and humor. 
The erratic movements of the ball, which was 
sometimes raised high off the ground, brought 
forth peals of laughter. 

Suddenly the Thorntons made a combined 
onslaught, and the ball was pushed several 
yards toward the Ripley line. 

“ There's nothing back of it,” yelled Bates. 

“ Oh, my, but this is easy ! ” cried Ralph 
Chickers. “ Once more ! ” 

“ We’ll run ’em right through their own 
front door ! ” shouted another. 

But the Ripleys hurled themselves against 
the sphere, pushed, struggled and panted, a 
compact mass of determined lads. 

Lon Bates, in his eagerness, stumbled, and 
the huge ball rose awkwardly over his pros- 
trate form, amidst a storm of laughter from 
the onlookers. 

“ Shove it sideways, Bill Stiles,” yelled Bob 
Somers. 


3°2 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Strategy versus strength/’ remarked Dave 
Brandon. “ Great Scott ! ” 

The Ripleys had followed Bob’s advice with 
a suddenness that took their opponent liter- 
ally off their feet. Before the Thorntons could 
recover themselves, the Ripleys had carried 
the ball five yards to the side, then pushed it 
forward and regained all they had lost. 

“ Hooray ! ” yelled Jack. “ Keep it up, 
Ripley ! ” 

Cheers, shouts, blasts from the tin horn and 
megaphone raised a terrific din, and while the 
excitement was at its height, George Clayton 
touched Bob Somers lightly on the arm. 

“ See who’s coming,” he said. 

Bob turned quickly, murmured, “ Well, 
well,” and nudged Norman Redfern. 

In a moment, all were staring at two figures 
rapidly approaching. One was Colonel Elli- 
son, and close by his side trotted his faithful 
chauffeur. 

“ Think how this affair must look to your 
guardian,” observed Redfern, with an air of 
great regret. 

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughed Joe. “ The storm’s 
coming. Hello ! Those Ripley chaps are 


k 





SEE WHO’S COMING 




House-boat 


303 


gaining again. Hi, hi ! Push it right over 
’em ! Flatten out the whole crowd, you fel- 
lows ! ” 

“ Hold on, Joe Preston,” remonstrated Fred 
Winter. “ The Colonel will have a fine 
opinion of you.” 

Colonel Ellison had never appeared more 
dignified and stern. His brow was wrinkled ; 
and he glared over the rim of his glasses at 
his ward and nephew in a truly terrible man- 
ner. 

“ Ah, ha, young man ! ” he began ; “so I 
see you at last, eh ? What have you to say 
for yourself? ” 

“ Plenty, Uncle Dan,” answered George, 
calmly and in a respectful manner. “ But I 
would prefer to talk somewhere else, sir.” 

“ Ma foi, what sang froid,” murmured 
Pierre. 

“ Norman Redfern,” exclaimed the Colonel, 
paying no heed to the attention his appear- 
ance and words attracted, “ you and I must 
have an accounting. You deliberately defied 
me. Through you, my nephew’s name has 
appeared in the papers as a scapegrace. Your 
misguided influence has made him recklessly 


The Rambler Club’s 


304 

disregard my wishes and actually defy the 
authorities ; and yet you still seek to ” 

“ Stop, Colonel Ellison ! ” interrupted Red- 
fern. His look of embarrassment was suc- 
ceeded by a flush of anger ; his voice trembled, 
but not from nervousness. “ Stop — you are 
going too far.” 

“Sir?” thundered Colonel Ellison. 

“ Ma foi, ma foi ! I hope it is not the fight 
that has come,” muttered Pierre. 

“ You must hear me,” went on Redfern, 
resolutely. “ I shall stand no further accusa- 
tions. George Clayton,” he added, turning 
toward the rich boy, “ did I ever influence 
you ” 

“ Look out — look out ! ” 

So absorbed had the participants in this 
conversation become that they failed to notice 
how events were going on the battle-field. 

Up to this time, neither side had gained any 
especial advantage ; but Thornton, by clever 
strategy, suddenly sent the ball off at an 
angle. The crowd melted away, but the 
Colonel and Redfern heard the warning cry 
too late. 

A mass of struggling boys bore furiously 


House-boat 


3°5 

down upon them, and Uncle Dan, taken al- 
together by surprise, toppled unceremoniously 
over, while the lighter Redfern sprawled full 
length on the sward. 

“ The young scamps — the ” 

But the remainder of the ColoneTs sentence 
was lost in a roar of sound. A wave of 
shouts had arisen ; the boy with the mega- 
phone used it with the utmost abandon ; and 
Owen Andrews again succeeded in proving 
the superior nature of his treasured tin horn. 

In the general excitement, the Colonel's 
mishap had attracted but little attention. 
Bob Somers and the astounded chauffeur 
jumped to his assistance, but were waved un- 
ceremoniously aside. 

When the others again looked around, they 
saw Colonel Ellison standing erect, his tall 
form towering above Redfern, who had also 
regained his feet. Close to him stood the ex- 
cited Pierre and George Clayton. 

The latter seemed more interested in the 
finish of the game than anything else, and 
the boys didn't wonder at it. They saw im- 
mediately that the Colonel and Redfern had 
not been hurt. 


306 The Rambler Club’s 

It was a moment of the utmost confusion, 
and the Ripleys, quick as a flash, saw their 
advantage. The push ball, like a thing of 
life, whirled off at right angles, then forward 
again. Ralph Chickers slipped, and several 
other Thornton lads fell over him. 

With an irresistible rush, the Ripleys once 
more hurled themselves upon the ball. 

The Thorntons fought desperately, but the 
attempt was as useless as trying to stop the 
tides. Lon Bates frantically commanded and 
stormed, only to find that his followers could 
not be rallied. 

Fifteen feet from the goal — ten. 

With their eyes fixed on the white line, 
the Ripleys, inspired by that spirit of deter- 
mination and aggressiveness which victory 
almost won carries with it, continued the 
battle. Only five feet now separated them 
from the coveted goal. 

In a voice that was strong and clear, Bill 
Stiles commanded : 

“ All together — Ripley forever ! ” 

And the others chimed in loudly : 

“ Ripley forever — now all together ! ” 

Before an irresistible rush, the discouraged 


House-boat 


3°7 

Thorntons fell back, and the big ball rolled 
over the line. 

As the cheers from Ripley and their adher- 
ents rang out, a flag was run up on the pole 
at the end of the field, and, as it fluttered out 
on the breeze, “ Ripley,” in big blue letters, 
appeared on the silken surface. 

The house-boat boys yelled loud and long. 

“ That old rag will come down yet,” grum- 
bled the disconsolate Bates. “ I can tell you 
that ! ” 

Just at this juncture, and quite unnoticed, 
a slight man of dignified bearing briskly ap- 
proached. 

As his eyes lighted on the ex-tutor, he 
rushed with outstretched arms toward him. 

“ Norman Redfern ! ” he exclaimed, in a 
tone of surprise and pleasure. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


GOOD NEWS FOR REDFERN 

Redfern turned sharply. 

“ Mosley ! ” he cried, seizing the others 
hand, and shaking it warmly. “ I was in- 
tending to stop in and see you. This is in- 
deed a pleasure.” 

“ I’ve been searching a month for you, 
Redfern ; but excuse me a moment — are you 
Colonel Ellison, sir? I was out when you 
called, but was told I might find you here.” 

“That is my name, sir,” said Uncle Dan. 
“ You are the president of Ripley Academy, 
I believe? ” 

Redfern seemed astounded. 

“ What ! ” he cried. “ Mosley, is it possi- 
ble ? Where is Professor Blackwell ? ” 

“ Resigned three months ago. And I was 
elected in his place. Congratulate me, old 
man ! ” 

“ With all my heart ; this is splendid news.” 
And Redfern again seized the other’s hand. 

308 


House-boat 


3°9 

“ Mosley and I were classmates here at Rip- 
ley/' he added, to the others. 

“ Let me add my congratulations, too/' 
said Colonel Ellison, stiffly, “ and express the 
hope that the majority of visitors will not be 
obliged to come, as I have, with complaints 
against the actions of your students." 

“ Ah," said the new president, “ what is it? I 
am sorry if they have misbehaved themselves." 

“ Some effort should be made to prevent 
such occurrences in the future." 

“ What is the nature of your complaint? 
But perhaps we had better withdraw to an- 
other place," added the president, noting that 
his visitor spoke in a tone which carried a 
long distance. 

As they walked slowly along the road, 
President Mosley listened intently to Colonel 
Ellison's complaint against Bill Stiles and his 
motor boat crew, and promised to look into 
the matter thoroughly. 

“ And now," he said, “ if you will permit 
me, Colonel, we will change the subject. I 
was on the point of communicating with you 
on a matter of the utmost importance, both to 
yourself and Norman Redfern." 


3 10 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Eh ? ” said the Colonel. 

“ What is that, Mosley ? ” asked Redfern, 
quickly. 

“ As I told you, I have been hunting for 
you for a month, but could find no trace of 
your whereabouts. All letters addressed to 
you were returned. Where in the world did 
you stop ? ” 

“ At a place where postmen never come,” 
replied Norman, with a faint smile. “ But 
what has happened — why should you wish to 
see me so particularly ? To speak frankly, I 
know that Professor Blackwell expressed a 
wish that I should keep away.” 

“ I must remind you, Redfern, that the 
wishes of President Blackwell are not those of 
President Mosley.” 

“ Good for you,” put in Joe Preston. 

“ What does all this rigmarole mean ? ” de- 
manded Colonel Ellison, looking from one to 
the other, in surprise. 

“ Simply this : by a bit of detective work, 
an unfortunate situation has been cleared up 
— the name of a certain person entirely freed 
from blame, and ” 

“What is that?” cried Redfern, his voice 


House-boat 


311 

trembling with excitement and hope. “ You 
mean ” 

“ Just what I say. But, as it is a private 
matter, I would respectfully ask that these 
young gentlemen retire for a short time.” 

“ Not so far as I am concerned,” put in 
Redfern, with a flush. “ I have nothing to 
conceal; speak freely.” 

“ Something great coming, I’m sure,” said 
George, with interest. 

“ Ma foi, but what ees this ? ” muttered 
Pierre, scratching his head. “ I no under- 
stand it — ze talk ees so fast.” 

Colonel Ellison merely nodded, to show 
that the arrangement suited him. 

“ Well,” proceeded President Mosley, hesitat- 
ingly, “ I suppose we shall have to briefly 
review the whole matter.” 

“ Yes, yes ! ” said Redfern, eagerly. 

“ It seems, then, that one day last spring, 
your employer, Colonel Ellison, sent you to a 
bank to collect a certain sum of money. Un- 
fortunately, you placed this in your overcoat 
pocket ? ” 

Redfern nodded. 

“ And when you went to a restaurant, 


312 The Rambler Club’s 

absent-mindedly hung the garment on a 
rack ? ” 

“ Yes, yes ! ” 

“ And on leaving rather hastily, took what 
you thought to be your own overcoat, and 
were on the train to Nyack before discovering 
that this was not the case ? ” 

“ Correct again,” said Redfern, his tone in- 
dicating suppressed excitement. 

“ On returning to the restaurant, you found 
your overcoat gone ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

During this conversation a very strange ex- 
pression came over Colonel Ellison’s face. He 
looked decidedly uncomfortable ; and hi3 
glance shifted uneasily from the president to 
Redfern and back again. 

It was plain that the similarity between the 
overcoats had been the means of losing the 
Colonel’s money. 

After a short pause, Mr. Mosley continued : 

“ You made every effort to find the money 
which had been in your keeping, and failed? ” 

“ Yes, yes — but tell me — has it been re- 
covered ? ” asked Redfern, eagerly. 

“ Yes, I’m glad I can say that it has.” 


House-boat 


3i3 


Norman Redfern gave an exclamation of 
relief ; his eyes sparkled with pleasure, while 
Colonel Ellison stopped abruptly in his walk, 
and stared down at him. 

“ Bully for you, Redfern ! ” cried Jack 
Lyons, enthusiastically. And George Clay- 
ton slapped his former tutor on the shoulder, 
and shook his hand warmly. 

Pierre Dufour looked on in amazement, and 
murmured, “ Ma foi, what ees this ? ” 

For an instant, Colonel Ellison remained 
silent. Then, clearing his throat, he held out 
his hand. 

“ Redfern,” he said, frankly, “ a man should 
always be willing to acknowledge his mis- 
takes. I ask your pardon for having wrongly 
suspected you.” 

“ And I freely give it,” exclaimed the happy 
Redfern. “ I will admit that appearances 
were against me. But, Mosley, how in the 
world did all this come about ? ” 

“ Well, to continue our story : I was, at the 
time, a professor at Ripley and expected you, 
also, to join the staff. Unfortunately, Presi- 
dent Blackwell considered you — shall I say it ? 
— guilty. And that ended your chances.” 


31 4 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Yes,” said Redfern, “ I have been only too 
well aware of that.” 

“ But I had confidence in you ; and was 
determined to prove that it was well placed. 
I advertised freely, and ” 

“ You did? ” 

“ Yes, sir ! And in my spare time investi- 
gated to the best of my ability. Nothing re- 
sulted, and I got a bit discouraged. But I 
don’t believe in giving up easily. Several 
times, at intervals, I went back to the restau- 
rant, made inquiries and kept the matter fresh 
in their minds. Then what should happen ? 
A few days ago, I got a letter ; and it made 
me jump.” 

“How can I ever thank you enough?” 
murmured Redfern. 

“ The man was a traveling salesman — only 
occasionally visited New York — and did not 
again have a chance to go to the restaurant 
until quite recently. But he was honest, and 
wished to find the owner of the money. The 
proprietor told him to communicate with me.” 

Redfern seized the other’s hand. 

“ Mosley,” he said, “ I’ll never forget you 
for this.” 


House-boat 


3i5 


The president smiled. 

“ Well, my story is almost finished. I was 
about to write to Colonel Ellison, in order 
that he might meet the gentleman and have 
his money restored. The visit is most oppor- 
tune, though I regret his errand.” 

“ Think no more about it,” said Uncle Dan, 
hastily. “ I was once a boy myself ; circum- 
stances had a great deal to do with my feel- 
ings.” 

“ Uncle Dan,” put in George Clayton, “ may 
I speak a word to you ? ” 

“ Well, young man, what is it? ” 

Briefly, George explained the whole story 
of his connection with the house-boat expedi- 
tion, and this time his guardian, in the light 
of recent developments, listened and believed. 

“ You must understand, George,” he said, 
“ though Redfern is not to blame in the mat- 
ter, you have acted in a most "reckless and 
self-willed fashion. We shall talk about it 
later.” 

“ I no comprehend, monsieur the Colonel,” 
exclaimed Pierre. “ Ees nobody any scamps, 
eh? Mafoi!” 

“ Shake Mr. Redfern by the hand, Pierre,” 


316 The Rambler Club’s 

commanded the Colonel. “ It was all a mis- 
understanding.” 

“ If it hadn’t been for Pierre’s meddling, a 
great deal of trouble might have been saved,” 
said George, half-resentfully. “ He butted in, 
and ” 

“ George — George ! ” cried Uncle Dan, “ I 
must protest against the use of such slang — 
such a lack of courtesy. Affairs have turned 
out happily for all concerned ; and this is no 
time for ill-feeling.” 

“ I guess you are right, uncle,” admitted 
George, frankly ; and then turning toward the 
chauffeur, he added, “ Everything is all right.” 

“ All one grand mistake ? Ma foi ! ” said 
the Frenchman, with the corners of his mouth 
beginning to curve upward. Then, with a sly 
glance at Colonel Ellison, whose stern counte- 
nance still showed a trace of discomfiture, he 
extended his hand toward the former tutor. 
“ We shake hand, Monsieur Redfern,” he ex- 
claimed. “ I’m sorry I say I would your face 
smack.” 

“ It’s all forgotten, Pierre,” laughed Red- 
fern, cordially. 

The Frenchman smiled broadly. 


House-boat 


3 l 7 


“ A la bonne heure, Monsieur George ! ” he 
cried. “ We are friends again. But nevaire 
you say ‘ fired ’ — * fired ’ to me.” And this 
time, Pierre Dufour showed that his resentful- 
ness was a thing of the past. 

Norman Redfern presently slapped Jack 
Lyons on the back. 

“Jack,” he said, “your house-boat trip has 
certainly resulted in making a great change 
in the feelings of one young man.” 

“ And it will have a more substantial result 
than that,” put in Uncle Dan, quickly. “ I 
hope you will become George’s tutor again.” 

Redfern’s features lighted up. 

“ Certainly — I shall be only too glad,” he 
began. 

But President Mosley hastily interposed. 

“ One minute, Redfern,” he exclaimed. 
“ Colonel Ellison’s offer is very kind ; but it 
might interfere with your professorship at 
Ripley Academy.” 

And when the true significance of his words 
was realized, a tremendous volley of cheers 
rose on the air. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE END OF THE CRUISE 

President Mosley, accompanied by Uncle 
Dan, Redfern and Pierre Dufour, entered the 
Academy building, while the boys wandered 
off to the athletic field. The events, rapid 
and unexpected, and the happy termination 
of the house-boat trip, had put everybody in 
the best of humor. 

The Ripley flag still floated proudly from 
the top of the pole. Bill Stiles and his fol- 
lowers, hot, victorious, husky-voiced and tired, 
marched around the field. They had won 
the second event, and Ripley was crowned 
with glory. 

Owen Andrews picked up his tin horn. It 
was now a battered and twisted wreck. 

Andrews looked at it sadly, put it to his 
lips, and, with a tremendous effort, managed 
to draw forth a thin, dismal groan. 

“Too bad it didn’t last for just one more 
blow,” put in George Clayton. 

“ Why, Bill number one ? ” demanded Stiles. 

318 


House-boat 


3*9 

“ Because I intend to enter Ripley,” an- 
swered George, calmly. 

The hoots, yells and jeers which this remark 
brought forth from the Thorntons filled the 
hearts of the Ripleys with pure, unalloyed joy. 

“ I say, Joe Preston,” remarked Fred Win- 
ter, abruptly, “ I knew it.” 

“ Knew what ? ” 

“ That you wouldn’t do a stroke of work 
on the history of our trip.” 

“ But I have ; I wrote the heading. When 
I get home, I’ll finish it sure,” laughed Joe. 
“ Anyway, I have an idea.” 

“ What is it?” 

“ We’ll try to get the governor to put a bill 
through the legislature for the state to buy 
the ‘ Gray Gull ’ and place it in a museum.” 

“ You silly thing ! Do be serious.” 

“ Let’s see : there was the ‘ Half-moon,’ the 
‘ Clermont,’ and now the ‘ Gray Gull.’ I’m 
going to put that in my history, too.” 

“ One thing we came near forgetting, fel- 
lows,” put in Jack Lyons. He seized Aleck 
Hunt by the shoulder. 11 How about that 
story of yours ? ” 

“ That’s so,” chorused the others. 


3 2 ° 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ What story ? ” 

“ What story? Why, about Joe Archer 
and Battery Park, of course.” 

“ Oh, yes ! Do you fellows really think 
I’m going to tell it now ? ” 

“ You bet we do.” 

“ Well, I put it in pickle some time ago ; 
and the jar’s been left on the house-boat. It 
won’t be taken out before I get a bite to eat — 
no siree.” And Aleck backed away. 

Joe Preston winked at the others ; his grin 
grew to positively enormous dimensions. 
Then he burst into a loud, long laugh. 

“ I wonder what we’re going to do next, Bob ? ” 

It was Tom that asked the question. 

“ Well, Ramblers,” spoke up Jack Lyons, 
heartily, “ we’ve had such a jolly good time 
on this trip I should say we’d all better take 
another.” 

“ Hooray ! ” shouted his hearers. “ That’s 
what we’ll do.” 

Other Stories in this Series are 
THE RAMBLER CLUB AFLOAT 
THE RAMBLER CLUB’S WINTER CAMP 
THE RAMBLER CLUB IN THE MOUNTAINS 
THE RAMBLER CLUB ON CIRCLE T RANCH 
THE RAMBLER CLUB AMONG THE LUMBERJACKS 
THE RAMBLER CLUB’S GOLD MINE 
THE RAMBLER CLUB’S AEROPLANE 







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